


Junkyard Dogs

by CrackingLamb



Category: Fallout 4
Genre: A real Renaissance Man, Canon-Typical Violence, Drug use duh, Explicit Language, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Handy raisin king is Handy, I'll take some realism with my Canon, In-Game dialogue is basic so it can bite me, My First Fanfic, Slowest burn I can manage, You know who we're dealing with right?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-08
Updated: 2018-05-04
Packaged: 2019-01-10 19:14:28
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 21
Words: 107,034
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12305874
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CrackingLamb/pseuds/CrackingLamb
Summary: Nora Howard: pre-war wife, mother and lawyer.  Post-war widow, Minuteman General, Railroad agent and all around badass.John Hancock: American hoodlum and defender of the people.  The Mayor of Goodneighbor.Just add interpersonal chemistry and mix until love forms.





	1. Safe

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Hancock gets bedazzled by a blue Vault suit, and his nurturing instinct - the one he thought was dead - gets rekindled.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> “Goodneighbor may be home to some degenerates, but all are welcome. We are of the people, for the people, ya feel me?”  
> “You’re shitting me, right?” she drawled, heavy on the sarcasm. She gestured to the dead body at his feet. “You kill people every day like that?” He grinned. He had an urge to keep her talking, just so he could enjoy the silk in her voice, even if it was aimed at denigrating him.  
> “I like you already.”  
> “Aren’t I the lucky one, then?”

When the woman first entered the gates of Goodneighbor, Hancock wasn’t paying much attention as he was talking over the night roster with Fahrenheit. Just another drifter, dog at her feet, gun at her side, another slung over her shoulder, fedora slouched low over her face, a mix of metal and leather armor covering up some sort of battered and beaten up suit. It was the color caught his eye. That suit was blue. He took another look. There was a Vault-Tec Pip-Boy on her wrist. Before he could make sense of what he was seeing, Finn approached her and started in on his ‘insurance’ bullshit. The drifter lifted her head to look at Finn. Her eyes were stark in her face, and almost crazily haunted, he could tell from where he stood, although he couldn’t see their color. They stood out in a face covered in dirt and blood, like a parody of makeup, masking her features. But they were hard beneath the wildness in them, like they’d seen much of the ruins of Boston and had been tempered by it.

He was intrigued. Only children had that look, the one that happened after they learned that the Commonwealth was quite possibly the worst place they could have been born, and she was most certainly not a child. Drifters didn’t usually go around looking like they had taken on a pack of feral ghouls by themselves either, but this one looked like she could. Finn was hassling her pretty good, and she was not impressed. In fact, she looked like she wanted to shoot him, but then Hancock would have to throw her out, and he didn’t want to do that. He always listened to his gut. Guess that meant he had to do something about it himself.

“Whoa, whoa, time out…” he found himself saying, urging Finn to back down and let the woman pass. But Finn got suddenly uppity, and Hancock had to get knifey to make his point clear. Better he do it than the woman, he supposed. His people accepted that sort of violence from him. Body at his feet, he looked at the woman again. “You all right, sister?”

“This world can seriously kiss my ass,” she muttered to herself, taking a look around now that she wasn’t distracted by Finn’s extortion attempts, taking in the disreputable shop fronts and idling drifters all over the place. “My favorite ballpark has become a slum town with delusions of grandeur, but the red light district has managed to remain the red light district. Figures.” He couldn’t tell exactly what she looked like under the filth, but that voice slid down his spine like warm water and he shivered right down to his bones. Her voice was clean – no smoke, no gravel, no abuse. No rads. Her accent was strange, like a pre-war ghoul, although it was abundantly clear that she was not. _Cute nose_ , he thought. Combined with the Pip-Boy and the blue suit under the dirty, beat up armor, he could make three guesses and only needed one. _A real live Vault dweller_ , he thought to himself. Now his interest was truly piqued. Residents of the only Vault he knew of did not mingle with his kind, and almost certainly never showed up in his town. What in hell was she doing here? _Where_ in hell had she come from? She swayed on her feet a little and beneath the armor of her left leg he saw bandages. They looked haphazard, like she’d tied them on in a hurry, and were bloody.

“Hey, you all right?” he repeated, getting her attention.

“Yeah…I’m fine…” She grimaced and then gritted her teeth against it so it didn’t show unless one noticed the tight muscles in her jaw.

“You’re probably lying about that, but I won’t hold it against you. Welcome to Goodneighbor. I’m Mayor Hancock, leader of this, what did you call it? Red light district.” He said it with relish, a twinkle in his black eyes.

“Nora Howard,” she replied, a little absently. She shifted her weight from one leg to the other, and he saw fresh blood blossom on her bandages. He was getting concerned that she’d keel over right in the street. Her dog was watching her, whining quietly. This girl had been through the wringer recently and looked agitated about it. Angry almost, as if she’d been caught out unaware and was kicking herself for it.

“Goodneighbor may be home to some degenerates, but all are welcome. We are of the people, for the people, ya feel me?”

“You’re shitting me, right?” she drawled, heavy on the sarcasm. She gestured to the dead body at his feet. “You kill people every day like that?” He grinned. He had an urge to keep her talking, just so he could enjoy the silk in her voice, even if it was aimed at denigrating him.

“I like you already.”

“Aren’t I the lucky one, then?” She kept shifting her weight, obviously in some pain, and he stepped closer to her, both to see her more clearly and to keep their conversation private, as much as it could be in the open courtyard that was the entryway of his town.

“There’s a Doc at the Memory Den,” he murmured. “She can patch you up.” He assessed her with a quick perusal. She seemed to be holding herself together with spit and bobby pins, and didn’t want anyone to know. Strong willed, he imagined. Or at least, cognizant enough that visible weakness was a death sentence in the Commonwealth. Definitely angry that she’d been hurt through her own carelessness. She was quite the conundrum. She looked too fragile to be roaming the ruins, yet also tough as nails. And that voice would lull a super mutant to passivity.

She, in the meantime, was giving him a thorough once over, and he noticed that while she might be relatively fresh from a Vault, she’d met other ghouls in her travels. She wasn’t looking at him strangely, or screaming. Just looking, like she was trying to find something individual in his face to remember him by. It was true he was flamboyantly dressed in a bright red frockcoat and a shirt with more than the necessary amount of ruffles topped by a tricorn hat perched on his head, so that stood him apart from his fellow ghouls, but they all pretty much looked the same. Bald, noseless, scarred. She’d met enough of his kind to know there were differences in their patterns of scarring, and she was trying to find his so she’d recognize him again. He’d lay odds she wasn’t a bigot from that observation alone.

“I just need a place to sleep and get clean, if that’s possible in this shithole of a world.” She sounded strangely bitter, and under her tone was a layer of grief he couldn’t begin to comprehend.

“Hotel Rexford has beds, they’re even somewhat clean. Public water is at the end of the alley there,” he pointed behind him, gesturing around the corner. “Or there’s water at the State House, where’s it hot.” Being Mayor had perks, after all. She lit up at the thought of hot water and he saw something flash through her eyes besides pain and general derision. It was calculating and he knew he was grinning as he saw the wheels turning in her head.

“That would be where you live, of course.”

“Of course. But I ain’t picky about my company, so you’re welcome to join me there.”

“Well, aren’t you slick as shit?” she purred, the derision back in her eyes. He imagined this little Vaultie had attracted quite a bit of attention, but she wasn’t interested in playing. She was giving off the impression that she didn’t like him, but he hoped it might be an act. He knew he was charming; it was his thing. And he was enjoying her attitude enough that he could see himself making an effort to win her over. “I’ll stay at the Hotel.”

“Ouch,” he said, holding a hand over his heart. “You’re killin’ me here.” She cocked her head, lifting the brim of her hat enough that the light fell fully on her face. Her eyes were green, green as spring grass. And so full of exhaustion and pain that it was wonder she was still standing. A pang of remorse went through him. She needed a medic and some rest. He had no business trying to butter her up like this just so he could enjoy her presence. He wasn’t completely heartless, after all.

“Is there somewhere to get ammo?” she asked suddenly, changing from weary and worn to businesslike and sharp as his favorite blade. “And trade in some of these?” She hefted a backpack that he hadn’t seen that clinked like it was full of guns and junk.

“Kill or Be Killed, or Daisy’s Discounts,” he thumbed over his shoulder. “Watch it with KLEO, she’s…”

The Vaultie named Nora glanced over his shoulder. “She’s an Assaultron.”

“Indeed.” He immediately noticed that the woman had used ‘she’ in reference to the robot. Definitely not a bigot. That was promising.

“She gonna melt my face off?”

“Not yours, sister. It’s too good to waste.” So, she’d wandered the Commonwealth enough to have met some of the local ‘wildlife’. He filed that away in his head.

“Cute.”

“I am, aren’t I?”

Nora sighed. “You’re all the same.”

“Oh, sister, there ain’t no one like me.”

“Right. Well, thank you, Mr. Mayor.” She moved off from the spot she seemed to have rooted herself and lurched towards KLEO. She was limping pretty badly now and he watched her as she passed him. Even covered in dirt and blood and who knew what else, he could see she was fine boned and petite, not even coming close to reaching the brim of his tricorn. Hell, she didn’t even come to the remains of his nose. Hancock wasn’t a particularly big guy, came with the territory of being a ghoul, but he could probably have thrown her and her bag of guns right over his shoulder and run down the road without losing his breath. How did such a delicate little flower end up in his neck of the woods without getting swallowed alive? He had turned to watch her backside – totally unashamed of himself, it was a worthwhile view – when she whirled to face him again. He quickly wiped the look of appreciation off his face, but she frowned anyway. Busted. “Anywhere I can get some work?”

“Yeah, from me.”

“Not that kind,” she sneered.

“Not what you’re thinkin’,” he retorted. “Come see me after you get yourself settled and we’ll talk. I’m up there.” He pointed at the State House and she nodded and started off again. Hancock shook his head and wandered back over to Fahrenheit, who just looked at him with a glint in her eyes that meant trouble.

“Vault dweller?” his second asked quietly. They were only a few feet from Kill or Be Killed, and could still hear the clear voice of the woman as she bartered with KLEO. As she good-naturedly _bantered_ with KLEO.

“Yup.”

“81?”

“No idea. That kind don’t mingle,” Hancock said. “She’s been around.”

“I can tell what you’re thinking. She didn’t seem too interested, and now you think you’re manhood’s been challenged. Not everyone in the world wants to be a dirty ghoulfucker, ya know, your usual slavering hangers on notwithstanding.”

“C’mon, Fahrenheit, give me some credit. I know when to lay off the charm.” Fahrenheit pushed away from the wall and tossed her cigarette into a gutter.

“Sure you do, John. And I’m a pretty princess.”

“Aren’t you just?” he teased, chucking her under her chin. She swatted him and stalked back to the State House behind him. He wondered if the Vaultie would actually come around and see him about work. He hadn’t been kidding. There were always odd jobs around for well-toned drifters packing serious heat in their holster. Hell, he would invent some if necessary.

***

Word got to him from the Watch that the Vaultie had indeed gotten a room at the Hotel, had used the public shower – she went in fully dressed in her Vault suit , which had 111 printed on the back of it – and had taken on a job for Daisy. Hancock knew what that job was, and with regret fully expected to never see those grassy eyes again. He didn’t think the super mutants at the library would care that her eyes matched their skin, no matter what kind of sweet talking she could do. He put her out of his mind, got stoned with some of the resident drifters who hung around the State House and banged one of them for the hell of it. He was kinda fun and relatively undemanding and Hancock should have felt good. Instead he just felt used. He was getting almighty tired of being used for chems and emotionless sex.

And five days later, while he stood on the roof enjoying the singular pleasure – for ghouls, anyway – of a radstorm, he saw her wander in through the gate again, dirty once more and considerably more hurt. Looked like this time she’d taken one too many thumps and was cradling her ribs like they were broken. But her backpack was full, and her dog was still with her. He had new armor. She didn’t. She limped straight to Daisy and was there a long time before she wandered away. He decided to pay a visit to his favorite ghoul. He jumped down onto the balcony, went inside and took a quick shot to keep himself outwardly collected – wondering as he did so why he was worrying about it – and went down the spiral stairs with a skip in his step.

“What’s new, Daisy?” he asked, swaggering a bit because appearances mattered. Daisy eyed him with scorn, the way she always did when she knew he was high, then smiled so beautifully it was nearly painful.

“That little girl cleared out my library,” she breathed, the honey sweet tone of her voice so at odds with her ruined face.

“She looked a bit beat up.”

“Surely did,” Daisy agreed. “I gave her a discount.”

“Hey, you do what you gotta. No complaints from me.”

“That girl has fire, John.”

“Hmm.” He tried to look nonchalant, but didn’t know how well it went over with his old friend. Daisy was perceptive. “Know anything about her?”

“She claims to have been frozen in a Vault. Pre-war.”

“You don’t say?”

“You sound suspiciously unsurprised, John. What do _you_ know?”

“Me? Nothin’. But she speaks the same way as you and the Slog’s crew. Huh, a pre-war popsicle. Explains why she still has that cute nose.” He grinned. He usually liked being what he was and had no compunction about defending the way he and other ghouls looked. Granted, he missed having hair…and all his toes. At least he was still charming, right? That had to count for something.

“You be kind to that girl, John Hancock,” Daisy snapped. He was surprised at that. Daisy didn’t take to many humans. She thought they were too nosy, pun intended and all. The fact that she seemed to have taken the Vaultie under her wing was a mark in her favor.

“I got no plans on being anything but,” he replied lazily.

“Uh huh, I see that look in your eyes.”

“What look? How can you tell anything? They’re black.”

“And you’re a rogue, not to mention high as a kite. She’s been through a lot, sounds like. She doesn’t need you panting after her.”

“Daisy, c’mon. I don’t pant after anyone. They pant after me.”

“They sure do,” Daisy said with genuine affection. “If you’re curious, I sent her to the Third Rail,” she added.

“Thanks, Daisy. Maybe I’ll pop down for a drink.”

“You do that…Mayor.” He grinned again and took off around the corner. The Third Rail was located under his own State House, and he had his own entrance, but he wanted to know what Ham thought of the Vaultie, so he went in the public doors.

“Ham.”

“Mayor.”

“That Vault girl came by, I hear?”

“Yessir.”

“And…?”

“I sent her down to talk to Charlie.”

“Excellent.” Whitechapel Charlie had work for her too, he knew. He was fronting the caps for it, after all. Just a little cleanup duty he couldn’t ask his Watch to do for him. Good for a stranger with no ties to his town. _Well, none yet_ , he amended in his head. He didn’t even know why he was curious about the woman; there was just something about her. “So…what do you think of her?”

“She’s on a mission,” Ham growled. “Needs caps for it, I guess.”

“Don’t we all?”

“She was nice to me,” Ham added, almost as an afterthought.

“So far, she’s been nice to all of us,” Hancock said, referring to himself and his fellow ghouls.

“Good sort, then.” Ham nodded, and Hancock knew that whenever Nora was in town, she would get a warmer welcome. Ham was hard to impress, which was why he was the bouncer. Hancock walked down the stairs in time to hear Magnolia talking with the woman.

“You’ve got that ‘I’m smarter than everyone in this place and I know it’ look about you,” Mags was saying. Nora laughed and it made him shiver. He wanted to hear it again.

“Is it that obvious?” Nora asked.

“Intelligence is so irresistible, isn’t it? So, what can I do for you, sugar?”

“I’m looking for Emogene Cabot,” the Vaultie said.  "Have you seen her?"

“Glad someone’s keeping an eye on that girl,” Magnolia said. “That’s a body needs watching over. Can’t say I’ve seen her in a while. I think she ran off with that preacher that used to come in here. Ham? Could you come here for a minute?” Hancock watched from the shadows as Nora and Magnolia talked to Ham about the sleazy preacher who used to frequent Goodneighbor but had since gone back to his ‘fold’ somewhere near the river. Ham went back upstairs and Mags asked if there was anything else she could do for the newcomer.

“I’d love to hear another song.” Nora was seated on a barstool, drink in hand. She must have already spoken to Charlie, who looked a bit put out, if a hovering Mr. Handy robot can look that way. She must have dickered hard. Hancock suddenly liked her even more and made a mental note to add some caps to the job ticket. She wasn’t wearing the blue Vault suit anymore, which was a pity for his eyes. She wore road leathers instead, that clung in all the right places. Her hair was still hiding under her hat, a battered black fedora that nevertheless gave her an air of mystery, but she seemed comfortable and less agitated than before. He decided to see if he could find out more about her and sidled up to the bar to stand next to her.

“Fancy meeting you here, Ms. Howard was it?” he said by way of greeting, while signaling Charlie for a drink. She swiveled on the barstool and even smiled at him.

“Nice to see you, Mayor.”

“Just Hancock will do. We don’t stand on ceremony in Goodneighbor.” On stage, Mags was singing her heart out, presumably for the newcomer, who seemed appreciative. _Good taste in music_ , he added to the file in his head. She looked weary from the road, and that look of overwhelming grief was still there, but she didn’t look half as crazed as she did the first time she walked into his town. Something had settled; she’d made a tentative peace with the world. Her drink was whiskey and she appeared to have already had a couple, judging by the way Charlie still hovered nearby, bottle in hand…claw? Whatever. She was relaxed and he found himself wanting to never see her tense up again. Which was an odd thing to feel, he thought. “So tell me about yourself, Vaultsicle.”

“Another time,” she said easily, neither bothered nor bottled up by his prying. He took that to mean she might actually be willing to talk at some point, just not right then while she was enjoying her drink and relaxation. She certainly didn’t appear offended by his offhand nickname, which meant she wasn’t keeping her origins from a Vault a secret. After all, she was still wearing her Pip-Boy, showing it off like it was just a fancy piece of jewelry. Not that she could hide it; it swallowed most of her forearm. He propped himself against the bar next to her and studied her closely. Without the dirt and blood, she was lovely. Clear skin, no pock marks of any kind, a dusting of freckles across her nose and cheekbones. There was a tiny scar across her bottom lip, newly healed. She looked young, maybe 25 or so. She was studying him too, he noticed, taking in the frockcoat and tricorn hat, the flag draped around his hips, the knife slid through it. He smiled, and she smiled back, shyly almost. In something approaching admiration, almost. Well, it was better than spit in his eye. “You said you had work for me?”

“Another time,” he replied, using her own words. The Third Rail was no place to talk business. “Enjoy your drink.”

“I will, thank you,” she said primly. They sat in silence, not quite touching, listening to Mags sing. It was…comfortable. Hancock didn’t usually relax around anyone other than Fahrenheit, but this tiny woman was so calm and quiet that he was soothed into a state of serenity. Of course, that could also have been the Med-X. He made no secret about his chem use, and as a ghoul it wasn’t like he could turn into some pitiful addict anyway. If she could tell he was high, she wasn’t judging, or at least, she didn’t appear to be.

She finished her whiskey and stood up, like she was ready to go. But she crumpled and would have fallen if he hadn’t thrown out an arm to catch her around her waist. God, she was tiny. The breath whooshed out of her and she grimaced and he remembered how pained she looked when she arrived.

“You’re hurt,” he said softly.

“It’s not that bad,” she insisted.

“Bullshit. You can’t even stand up. Let me help.”

“I’m fine,” she tried to snap at him, but it came out too breathy from her pain.

“Look, I know you don’t know me from a hole in the ground, but while you’re in my town, you’re my guest, and I take care of my guests.”

“How?”

“I got some chems and at least clean bandages in the State House.” She searched his face, speculatively.

“Scout’s honor you won’t try anything…shady?’

“What’s a scout got to do with…Never mind. Let me help you. Daisy would have my hide if I didn’t at least offer, after what you did for her.”

“You know about that?” she asked, as if she was totally unaware that she was the hottest topic of the town. All right, she was the hottest topic he was interested in. She hadn’t pushed his hand away from her hip, either, so maybe that went both ways a little.

“Sister, nothing happens in Goodneighbor that I don’t hear about. Now c’mon. We’re going upstairs.”

“Okay, fine,” she said with resignation. “But I’m keeping my gun handy.” _Used to doing for herself_ , he added to his file. _Won’t ask for help_.

With his arm around her to support her weight, he led her to a dark corner of the bar, laughing a little when she tensed up. “Relax. I just like to keep my private door hidden.” There in the dark was a locked door that led to a set of stairs up into the basement of the State House. She made it up the first flight fine, but was failing fast when they got to the spiral set. She took a determined breath and started up and he just couldn’t take it anymore. “Fuck it,” he snarled under his breath and lifted her right into his arms easily, like she was nothing more than a sack of tatoes. He really should have intervened sooner.

“What are you doing?”

“Vaultsicle, you’d never make it up those stairs, and I ain’t aimin’ to heal your hurts in front of all my guards, ya dig? Unless you’re into that sort of thing.”

“You don’t have to carry me. I can walk.” She sounded worried. He scowled. What asshole had made her this wary? Oh, right, the whole fucking Commonwealth was an asshole.

“Pfft, yeah, sure, you can walk,” he drawled sarcastically. “You’re in no shape for anything. And I don’t do unwilling. Relax.” And she did, a bit to his surprise. She wrapped her arm around his neck and he carried her up the stairs. _Isn’t afraid to touch me_ , his mental file grew larger.

In his office, he set her down and forced himself to let her go, while gesturing to the junkies lounging about to scram. God did he want to get his hands on her in a less clinical way. His attraction to her was seriously strong, frighteningly strong, but he meant what he said. He busied his hands instead with finding what he wanted and a clean cloth. “Sit down,” he threw over his shoulder. “Let’s see what we can do for you.”

“I don’t take a lot of…chems,” she said, as if the word was unfamiliar in her mouth.

“It’s all right. I won’t make you overdose. I’ve done plenty, so I know what I’m doing.”

“I’ve heard stories,” she said absently, and when he turned to look at her he saw she’d leaned back against the cushions and taken off her fedora. Her head rested on the back of the old sofa and her hair spilled over her shoulder in a wavy fall, so long it was nearly pooling in her lap. It was red. Not a burnt orange red like Fahrenheit’s but a glossy, burnished red like oak leaves in autumn. He chuckled to himself. Leave it to him to be drawn like a moth to flame.

“Here,” he said, sitting down next to her. “Give me your arm.” He wiped her forearm clean and gave her a shot of Med-X, watching her eyes flutter with relief as the potent pain killer entered her system.

“Oh,” she whispered. “It’s like morphine.”

“Better?”

“Yes, thank you.” God she was so polite it was adorable. Her chest rose and fell as the drug worked its magic and he couldn’t tear his eyes away. Why was she so damned intriguing?

“You ever get that leg looked at?” he asked, remembering she had previous injuries.

“I cleaned it up myself.”

“You get hurt often, sister?”

“I never used to…before. But…”

“This world ain’t for the fainthearted,” he finished for her. She nodded. “Can I take a look?” She opened one eye and watched him. He honestly wasn’t thinking what she was, but he grinned when he realized how it sounded.

“Is that your way of getting me out of my pants?”

“Nah, just want to make sure you don’t have an infection.” He even said it with a straight face, although the thought of her naked legs was making his mouth go dry. And making other parts stand at attention. Thank God for his flag, he thought. The hell was wrong with him? He liked a bit of fun as much as the next guy, but he had some lines he didn’t cross. Easy, mutual and uncomplicated was his deal, and she was anything but uncomplicated. She was red flags all over the place, and he sure as shit shouldn’t get involved. But he couldn’t seem to help himself. She was high enough now that she just waved a hand.

“Sure, whatever.” She scooted down on the sofa so she could undo the fly of her leather pants and shove them down her hips all in one motion. Under normal circumstances, Hancock would have been encouraged, but then he saw the mess on her thigh.

“Shit,” he said. There were bruises and a large laceration crudely stitched. Her perfect skin was marred by so many scratches and marks he felt hollow. This beautiful creature had no business being in the Commonwealth. She was pale, with freckles on her knees, and he ached to see if she was as smooth as he thought she might be. But the stitches looked clean, and not the angry red he would have associated with infection, so he didn’t touch. “You want to wrap that up, at least?”

“I guess.” She sounded tired, bone deep tired, the kind that only happens when the world has thrown too much at you, but you soldier on because if you stop you’re dead. Hancock found some cotton strips and carefully wrapped up the stitched leg, trying to ignore the soft sweep of her skin under his fingers. He saw that she had fallen asleep. He gave her a quick injection from a stimpak to help her ribs heal, as well as that ugly gash on her leg. He pulled off her boots and shimmied the pants right off her legs before carrying her to his room and laying her on the bed. He undid the buttons on the fitted jacket she wore over a grimy plaid shirt and pulled it off her arms, then covered her with the blankets, dousing the low light from her Pip-Boy. He steadfastly did not look at her skimpy underwear…much. He was walking out of the room, congratulating himself for keeping his hands to himself when he heard her stirring.

“But where will you sleep?” she murmured.

“I got the sofa. And I don’t need much sleep anyway.”

“Big bed,” she sighed, with a question in it. He chuckled and she blushed. She’d figured out why he needed it, all right. And now he had the image of her in it in his head to boot.

“Get some sleep, Vaultsicle. I’ll be right outside.”

“Safe…” she said, drifting off again.

“Yeah,” he replied, even though she couldn’t hear him. “I’ll keep you safe.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The characterization of this SS comes from a playthrough I am currently doing, so updates may be a bit sporadic after a while as I catch up the writing to the game (or vice versa in some cases). *Edit, I totally lied, this is being updated regularly*
> 
> It’s based upon two defining themes: what does the companion do when they’re not with the SS, and how can Hancock get this pre-war SAHM to eat better, as well as keeping her from trying to save the world in just one day? This is told exclusively from Hancock’s POV.


	2. Waiting on a Girl

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Nora wakes up in the lion’s den, but he just feeds her instead of eats her. Also, how Hancock becomes bored with mayoral life.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> “How are you feeling?”
> 
> “Almost human again. Sorry,” she added quickly, thinking she might have given offense. Most people didn’t think of ghouls as human anymore, although Nora at least seemed to think they were still people. Good people, if he was any judge of her opinion.
> 
> “No worries. You hungry?” Her eyes lit up and he couldn’t help but smile at her. “Pick your poison. I got some canned stuff around, it’s got rads though. Or I could maybe scrounge up something less…detrimental…I think.”
> 
> “Poison is right,” she said with a frown. “You know what I miss? Bread. How come nobody makes bread anymore?”

The Vaultie slept around the clock. Hancock kept administering the Med-X periodically if she seemed to be in too much pain, and once, when she had thrashed and shouted in her sleep, he held her in his arms until she calmed down. She sobbed, silently and without tears, never waking up, clinging to his shirt so hard it tore. His hardened heart ached for her unknown miseries. It seemed obvious she had no one to lean on during her waking hours if she was this tortured in her sleep. He knew the feeling well. With dawn’s light seeping through the shutters, and Nora still dead to the world, he cut out the stitches from her leg, seeing the skin neatly knitted, if crooked and bumpy. He could only imagine her stitching herself up, gritting through the pain of it. She was a marvel of contradictions.

Later he sat in a hard backed chair, propped his boots on the end of the bed and mended his shirt, sitting there comfortably shirtless, watching her more than his sewing. Sleeping she looked younger, her face free from all strain. Her lashes swept her cheeks, stark against her skin. She had turned on her side and tucked her hands under the pillow, like a child. He was entranced. It was both a comforting and disturbing notion.

Her eyes opened slowly, taking in the room, the soft light from a lantern at his elbow on a table, the shirt in his lap and his own naked torso. Once he had been proud of his body, had used it like a weapon. Now it was an afflicted mass of leathery, scarred flesh. There was still good muscle underneath, and he had all his working parts – thank God – but it was not that pretty to look at. Like most of his kind, he’d grown a metaphorical thick skin to go with his actual thick skin, and pretended he was fine with the fact that most humans shied away from looking or touching. So he felt a bit disconcerted under her steady gaze, but she didn’t look disgusted. Not even initially before covering it up. She just looked… curious. _Better and better_.

“Hi,” she whispered.

“Morning, Vaultsicle,” he purred. She was a sight indeed, with her eyes wide and her face flushed. Now that she was awake again he was growing distinctly aware of a nearly tangible pull between them. He wondered if she felt it too; she did seem slightly abashed by whatever thoughts were going through her head.

“I’m still in your bed?”

“You are.”

“What are you doing?”

“Mending.” She stayed there on her side, watching him. He suddenly felt clumsy with a needle, something his mother would have laughed to have seen. Odd, he hadn’t thought of his mother in a long time.

“Why?” she asked finally.

“It tore,” he said simply. He had no intention of telling her she’d had nightmares. He had a feeling she wouldn’t want to be reminded. He knew how that worked. He never wanted anyone to know he had them too.

“What’s it like?”

“Hmm?”

“Being a ghoul.”

“Ahh, well. It has its perks. I don’t suffer from rads, they heal, in fact. I don’t need much food or sleep. Slower metabolism. I’m pretty indestructible and I’ll live for fucking ever.” This in a slightly darker tone.

“Ghouls are immortal?”

“Well, let’s just say we age really, really slow. You’ve met Daisy, she’s pre-war. And I’m guessing by the fact that you didn’t scream in horror upon arriving that you’ve met others.”

“Wiseman,” she said in confirmation. Hancock found himself slightly envious of his old friend if Nora felt that warmly toward him, but then again, Wiseman inspired most friendlies that way. He was nearly as charming as Hancock was, and nowhere near as lecherous. He was a generous and kind soul and Hancock was more indebted to him than he would ever let on for things from their mutual past. Anyone who appreciated Wiseman was good in his book.

“Yes, and Holly too. You know of the Slog, then?”

“Yeah, I…I defended them against some super mutants. They let me build some stuff, and got more settlers to live there.” She paused, taking a deep experimental breath before trying to sit up in his big bed. She glanced at the chronometer on the Pip-Boy and seemed surprised she’d slept so long. She was tousled and glorious and he wanted with every fiber of his being to climb in there with her. He didn’t even want sex, well he did, but what he really wanted was just to be near enough to touch her. To bask in her glow. “I like to spend time there. It’s peaceful.”

“As long as those crazy raiders stay in their hellhole of a quarry. And the Forged don’t come out to play with matches.”

“Yes, there is that. I built some extra turrets on that side. I've had to deal with the Forged only once, but that was enough. Ugh,” she exhaled with a shudder. “Dunwich Borers is downright scary. ‘Course, it was in my time too. Some things never change.” Nora sounded wry and Hancock wondered anew just who this strange little Vault dweller was. _She lived in Boston before the war_ , he added to his mental file. The idea was slightly awe inspiring.  He didn't even know why.  Maybe it was because many of his pre-war friends, like Daisy and even Wiseman, were not native to the area.  Nora had known Boston as it had been before the bombs, when it was pristine and alive.  Her grief made more sense to him.

“How are you feeling?”

“Almost human again. Sorry,” she added quickly, thinking she might have given offense. Most people didn’t think of ghouls as human anymore, although Nora at least seemed to think they were still people. Good people, if he was any judge of her opinion.

“No worries. You hungry?” Her eyes lit up and he couldn’t help but smile at her. “Pick your poison. I got some canned stuff around, it’s got rads though. Or I could maybe scrounge up something less…detrimental…I think.”

“Poison is right,” she said with a frown. “You know what I miss? Bread. How come nobody makes bread anymore?”

“Not enough wild yeast. You can still find it in places like DC and out west,” he said offhandedly, finishing up his shirt and tossing it on carelessly. He didn’t miss her eyes following his arms and body as they moved, however, so he didn’t button it up. Let her have a nice, long look if she wanted it. _Curious little kitten. Good thing the cream has something of a conscience_.

“You’re the first person to even know what bread is around here,” she said with a touch of wonder, still sort of absentmindedly staring at his skin. “Well, who isn’t pre-war, I mean. Why is that?”

“I read a lot. It’s a lonely life, being the Mayor.” She looked around the room and smirked.

“Somehow I doubt that very highly.”

“Well, aren’t you a smart cookie?”

“Don’t tease about cookies.” He laughed outright. “Seriously, though, are you really that lonely?”

“It’s surprisingly hard to get good conversation around junkies.”

“Pfft, serves you right for expecting it. But aren’t the king of the junkies? Seems to me that would work out fine for you.” She offered it sweetly, but her tart temperament was showing itself even if she was still rumpled and newly recovered from massive injuries. He found he liked that sharp edge of her.

“That’s me, sexy ghoul king, at your service.”

“Don’t think much of yourself, do you now?”

“Ha, sister, I’m at the top of this pile of shit, and I know it.”

“Hmm.” He could trade barbs with her all day, but her stomach suddenly grumbled audibly.

“You get comfy, I’ll find some food for you.”

“Uh…Hancock? Where can I…pee?” She blushed so prettily he nearly missed what she was asking. He pointed to a door off to the side of the room and she grinned sheepishly.

He left her in peace while she attended nature and found something more comfortable for her to wear. The stitches may have come out, but that leg was sure to still be tender. All he had was drifter rags or a sequined dress left by someone at some point. He took the rags as they would be easier on her skin than leathers. She didn’t seem the type for the dress. Alternatively, he might not let her leave if she was in it.

Fahrenheit was in his office when he returned, the bundle of clothes in his hand. On the counter against the wall he saw he still had some bowls of noodles, and grabbed one, heating it up quickly on the stove tucked into the corner of the office. He had all the amenities of a real home, even if he rarely used them.

“She’ll live, then?” his second asked drily.

“Yeah, she’s okay. Just banged up a whole lot more than she was letting on.”

“Ever solicitous, John?”

“Leave off, Fahr.”

“Oh, baby, you got it bad.” Fahrenheit laughed at his frown and sat at the desk, going through the papers she’d come to get. Just because she’d gotten on his nerves about it – and struck too close to home for comfort, but what did he expect? – he left the double doors to the bedroom open. Not like he had anything to prove, but still…

When he saw Nora, however, he wished he hadn’t been so easily goaded by his second. Her back was to him as she looked out the window she’d thrown open the shutters on. She was brushing out her hair with an old silver backed brush. It fell to her hips, a fiery mass of tangles and curls. He wondered how she’d gotten all that tucked into a fedora. Her legs were still bare and her shirt didn’t even come to her waist, so he could look his fill as long as she didn’t know he was there. She was shapely and toned, but far too slender. He had a feeling she hadn’t been eating enough since anything she ate was probably full of rads. Food in the ruins was always a balancing act. She needed to learn to hunt things she could cook the rads out of, rather than hunting super mutants.

For a moment he forgot to breathe. She was stunningly beautiful. His fingers itched to get into that hair. And other places. He cleared his throat and she turned, not startled. He realized she had probably seen his reflection in the window. He wondered if it was tit for tat since he still hadn’t buttoned up his shirt. _The game is on_ , he thought. _She better watch it, I’ll call that bluff in a heartbeat_.

“Food, and softer clothes,” he announced as if he didn’t have a raging hard on, and designs on getting her naked. “I can’t get you bread, but I did find you noodles.”

“Thank you, Hancock.”

“John,” he said, without thinking about it. There were only a handful of people allowed to call him that, and while he didn’t ignore his gut instincts about much, he did wonder why it felt so right to have her be one of them.

“John Hancock, American revolutionary and signer of the Declaration of Independence,” she said. “Did you take out my stitches?”

“That’s right, and yes, I did.” She crossed the room on those slender legs and his mind went totally blank. She grinned, knowing exactly what she was doing to him and was not shy about it at all. _Oh, she knows the game, all righ_ t. She took the bowl of steaming noodles and began to eat without even eyeing the clothes. There was a cushioned chair in a corner and she curled up in it, completely comfortable in her own skin. But she looked like a lost child, so small and dainty. He didn’t mind having women throw themselves at him, or men for that matter. But he needed to abide by his own rules, and they didn’t include taking advantage of those who were vulnerable. Well, not in this circumstance. Toying with her should not be a game, and he was almost ashamed of himself. “Look, Vaultsicle, I have some shit I gotta do. Mayoral duties and all. You stay as long as you like, all right?”

“Sure, Hancock,” she said around a mouthful of noodles, ignoring his invitation to use his first name. She glanced at him and swallowed. “I need to earn it,” she said softly, and he knew right then that his heart was gone, completely gone. Game be damned. She got it. She understood that no one called him that that hadn’t earned it. And she didn’t feel like she had. But she wanted to, and he was completely okay with that.  More, he was practically jubilant.  That meant he had a chance, right?  “About that job?”

“Yeah. Later. It’ll be waiting for you.” _Just like me. Man, I am in deep shit_.

***

In the middle of the night, after he’d been at his desk for hours and the Mentats had worn off, he heard her leave. He’d done a good job of staying away, he thought, without bruising anyone’s feelings. He stood at the window in time to see her go through the gate, the dog once more at her side, her armor patched, her backpack empty. He hoped she’d be back, no matter how long it took. He certainly had all the time in the world.

The warehouses were cleared two days later. Charlie told him in the quiet afternoon hours when the bar was empty and Magnolia was off doing whatever it was she did when she wasn’t singing. Sleeping it off, most likely.

“She drove a hard bargain, ‘ancock,” the Mr. Handy turned bartender stated. “I don’t know what came over me.”

Hancock laughed as they went over the books and inventory.  “She’s a heartbreaker, that one.”

“Thinkin’ she’ll break yours?” the robot asked slyly but with no malice. It was no surprise to him that everyone thought he was head over heels for the Vaultie. He didn’t answer, which was answer enough. Charlie huffed. “She ‘ad that young pup with ‘er.”

“MacCready? Good, at least she had someone more useful in a fight than a dog.”

“No offense, guv, but that young pup was makin’ eyes at her.”

“Sure he was. I ain’t seen anyone yet in this town that hasn’t. Even you, evidently.”

“I never,” Charlie barked and Hancock guffawed. He went back to the books, but thoughts of her and Mac had him distracted.

“She seem interested?”

“Nah, wuddn’t like that. She teased him like he was her bruvver or sumfin’.”

“Good. I mean…oh hell, whatever.” Charlie chuckled at him but kept his thoughts to himself.

The next time she popped up on his radar was at the Rail too. He’d been partying hard with some of the locals, sharing around a wealth of chems and booze. He had his arm slung over the shoulder of some woman who wanted a ‘tour’ of the State House and didn’t even know Nora was sitting there until he saw her in the shadows with MacCready as he was leaving. She raised her glass to him and gave him a sardonic smirk and suddenly he wished he wasn’t with someone else. He wished the whole damned town would just disappear. But she went back to talking with Mac and he went on his way.

He knew she was around town. He could hear her at Daisy’s selling her extra stuff, or bartering with KLEO in a goodnatured way when he was on his balcony. He couldn’t see her from there, but voices carried in the narrow alleys and hers was distinctive. He heard the Rexford had a new toy in the form of a robot that acted like a refrigerator. And he started listening to the Silver Shroud radio show after Fahrenheit told him they had some sort of vigilante on their hands cleaning up the riffraff he hadn’t gotten to. He had a good laugh over it and told Fahr to leave it alone. She was doing them a favor in a way. He knew it had to be her; no one else would be so bold as to take Kent up on that crazy plan of his. But she stayed away from the State House.

Then it got personal and Kent was taken. And she showed up, sheepish but daring, in the black trench coat and hat, the silver submachine gun at her side. God only knew how she’d gotten through all the ferals in Hubris Comics to get it.

“This ain’t a game, sweetheart,” he said sternly to her once he’d seen through her act. It had been funny at first, but Sinjun and his crew weren’t likely to laugh. They’d killed this Vaultie without a lick of remorse.

“I know what I’m doing, Hancock,” she retorted, her temper flaring. “You want to use me to clean up your messes, fine, but give me credit for being able to do it.”

“Whoa, I didn’t mean it like that.”

“Then what did you mean?”

“I don’t want to see you get hurt,” he said, carefully. Her demeanor changed as she realized he was worried about her. “Or killed.”

“Isn’t that sweet?” she purred, pouring much more sarcasm into her voice than was probably necessary. But it gave him an out, if he wanted to take it. He felt like they were treading on something slippery and a wrong move would have her sliding so far away from him he’d never get her back.

“I don’t,” he insisted. He dared himself to get in her face about it. “You’re important.”

“Hancock, I’ll be fine.” She looked like she wanted to touch him in reassurance, but stopped herself. He couldn’t read what was going on in her eyes. “Just tell me how to find this Sinjun asshole, and I’ll get Kent back.”

“All right, but I want you back here as soon as it’s done.” She seemed amused at his adamance, but said nothing. He told her she’d had to take out his flunkies near Bunker Hill before he’d surface and she was on her way. It was a long night for him; and he hit the chems a bit harder than usual, waiting for her return. He came to the realization that he probably should have gone with her. She had a take charge attitude that was going to her killed if she didn’t have someone watching her back. MacCready was good, but was he good enough?

Just before dawn he heard the State House door open. He heard Nora’s sinfully delicious voice float up the stairs, followed by Kent’s shy, hesitant one as they talked with the guards. He breathed a sigh of relief. She stamped into his office as if she was angry, but her eyes were glowing with some other emotion entirely. Well, one of them was. The other was swollen shut. Mac hung out at the door, almost like he was ashamed to be seen with her like that.

“Shit, Vautlsicle, did you use your face as a battering ram?”

“Something like that,” she said. She had an arm around Kent. “Here he is, safe and sound.”

“I think I’m gonna stay home from now on,” the aged ghoul said shakily. But he gripped Nora’s other hand in his like they’d been on a pleasant walk.

“The life of a crime fighting hero’s not all it’s cracked up to be, eh Kent?”

“No, Mayor, it’s not. I was tortured and scared the whole time. I…I’m just done.”

“Hey,” Hancock said easily, softly like he was trying to soothe a frightened animal. “If you give up, then the bad guys win. You and Miss Silver Shroud here did a good thing. You should be proud of yourself.”

“The Silver Shroud wouldn’t be anything without the faithful Rhett Reinhardt,” Nora said dramatically, her voice echoing the tones of the radio show. Hancock hid a snicker, but saw it had the right effect on Kent. The old ghoul brightened up.

“That means a lot,” he said. He held Nora’s hand for a moment longer then wandered away, back to his home in the Memory Den.

“You wanna fix for that shiner? Looks painful,” Hancock said once they were alone. Mac had settled himself down on a chair in the hall between the office and bedroom, tucked just out of sight but not entirely forgotten.

“I’m fine, Hancock. And no, thank you.” He decided he’d pay her for her time and trouble instead of throwing her over his shoulder and hiding her in his bedroom the way he wanted to. MacCready might feel slighted. “Thanks, caps are always good.”

“I’m glad you’re all right,” he told her with relief. “Black eye notwithstanding.” She smiled breezily and headed toward the spiral stairs with her companion just as Fahrenheit came in.

“See ya ‘round…Mayor.”

“That was our Silver Shroud wannabe?” Fahr commented. “I shoulda guessed you’d find some way to get her back in here.”

“Yeah.”

“You just let her go? You’re slipping, John.” His second was laughing at him, he saw. Well, let her.

He didn’t see her for a while after that. Other rumors began to trickle in, though, as winter faded and spring brought caravans and traders again. Talk of entire raider camps wiped out, Gunner outposts being blown away and excited stories about the new General of the Minutemen taking back their old fortress at the Castle. Fresh settlements began cropping up on the trade routes, peaceful, welcoming communities where drifters could settle down and become farmers and merchants, where ghouls were emphatically as welcome as humans. He remembered what she’d said about the Slog, how she’d helped them defend themselves against attack and recruit new settlers. He began to wonder what this little Vaultsicle was up to in the Commonwealth.

There were other rumors too, foreboding ones. More disappearances, more talk of the Institute. More synths passing through his town like shadows. He turned a blind eye to their activities in the Memory Den and concentrated on keeping the caps flowing in and out of Goodneighbor. More in, if he could help it. He played with his chems and started dreaming of a formfitting blue suit coming apart under his hands. He found himself staying away from his usual debauchery since nothing else could compete with the slender, shapely legs he saw in his memory. The bookies began to lay odds on when he’d crumble, never dreaming that he wouldn’t at all, not until she came back to him. If she came back, that is. He tried to act like he wasn’t a pining school boy with his first crush, but couldn’t even convince himself.

It all came to a screeching halt on the day Fahrenheit told him the store room alarm had gone off. She went to investigate and came back several hours later, bearing a smirk and interesting news.

“Bobbi No-Nose tried to rob you,” his second said without preamble.

“And…?”

“She had that Vaultie with her and a couple other sidekicks who were apparently not in the know. They thought they were breaking into Diamond City. The Vaultie offed No-Nose like it was her God given duty when she found out what was actually going on.”

“Really.” Hancock leaned back in his chair at his desk, surprised both by the news of the attempted robbery and Nora’s loyalty. He was genuinely touched and wondered exactly how he could play it for rewarding her. He’d been starting to think he’d seen the end of the delicate little flower. Maybe not.

“I gave her Ashmaker,” Fahrenheit continued. Now Hancock was just stunned. Fahr loved that gun. The Vaultsicle must have impressed her something wicked. “Told her to come see you.”

“Yeah, cuz that’s not obvious at all.”

“I knew you’d want to thank her…personally.”

“You’re all heart.”

“I am.” Fahrenheit stalked back to her post in the corner of the office and started chain smoking. _It must have been some fight_ , Hancock thought to himself, _to get Fahr all riled up like that_. He decided he’d done enough work for one day and slouched off to his bedroom.

The problem with the State House being converted into his home, as well as a place homeless drifters could sleep safely for a couple nights without being murdered, was that there wasn’t much room for both business and leisure. His office was his public side, his bedroom was his haven, but there wasn’t much space between the two for just…waiting. He had his books in his room, and his collection of weapons. He had peace and quiet when it suited him, and noise and activity when that suited him. It seemed the best place to wait for her, leaning against the wall by the balcony door, idly twirling his knife.

She didn’t come that day…or the next. Three days passed without a single rumor of her. He was frustrated, then he was resigned. Maybe she felt like she’d overstepped. Maybe she needed time to cool and dissect her feelings about him. He’d learned some things about the Vaultsicle, and they turned his blood cold. She’d been widowed in that Vault and her infant son had been kidnapped while she watched, frozen in time, unable to act. She’d woken to a world ravaged by a nuclear apocalypse and she had no place in it. She had no one to turn to who knew what she’d lost, other than the odd pre-war ghoul. He now knew what the caustic lining of grief was in her eyes. He understood her motives better. He understood her nightmares without even having to ask what they were. More the fool he if he had imagined her interest, shy and skittish as it had been. But he didn’t think he was a fool. If it was time she needed, he had plenty.

He went back to work, and told himself she would come.

A couple weeks passed until the day he heard clanking outside, not unlike a huge robot stamping down a narrow corridor. He glanced out a window that faced the courtyard entryway to Goodneighbor and saw a magnificent sight. Nora was stepping down out of a suit of cherry red power armor, slinging a full backpack over her shoulder, MacCready in tow. They went and talked to Daisy for a bit before Mac hugged her hard and went off on his own towards the Third Rail. She looked up at the State House and smiled to herself, just a little bit. It gave him an unfamiliar thrill in the pit of his stomach. He shot some Med-X to calm down just as he heard the door open below and his Watch speaking quietly, _politely_ , to her.

She found him leaning against the wall in his room, tricorn cocked at an angle, shirt half undone – nothing too slutty, just enough to get her attention – booted feet crossed at the ankles.

“Hey, Hancock,” she said, and her voice was still like warm water flowing down his spine. He tingled in all the right places.

“Hey, Vaultsicle.” She wrinkled her nose at him at the nickname. She looked like she wanted to stick her tongue out at him like a child and he just barely kept himself from laughing. “I hear you did a number on old No-Nose.”

“I can’t believe she thought she could pull a heist like that,” Nora said, anger in her eyes now on his behalf. It was adorable. “Killing her was the only way to make it right. Still…I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be,” he said with a shrug, looking up at the ceiling because he couldn’t look at her righteous indignation without seriously wanting to kiss her. “Ya know, this jaunty little hat of mine is getting heavy. I’ve had some time to think. I’ve gotten too comfy up here on high in my State House. I need to take a walk, get out and remember what it felt like to get dirty.”

“And you could just do that? Just walk away? What about Goodneighbor?”

“I’ve spent the last month writing trade agreements and solidifying all my businesses so they’ll keep going without me. I can walk any time.”

“So why haven’t you?”

He dropped his head and looked her in the eye.  “Been waiting for someone so I can thank her personally for everything she did.” To his surprise, she blushed.

“I thought we were even.”

“How ya figure?”

“You kept me safe and tended my wounds. I owed you for that.”

“No you didn’t.”

“It was the right thing to do. I couldn’t very well steal from you after all you’ve done for me.”

“It was foolhardy to pick a fight with No-Nose, but I thank you just the same.” She was still blushing, but he noticed that she hadn’t looked away from him.

“Is that job still waiting for me?”

“Of course.”

“Wanna tell me what it is now?” There was a confidence in her demeanor that had been lacking the last time he’d seen her. Somewhere in her weeks away she’d learned to make the Commonwealth her bitch. It was a good look on her. Really good. Buffjet good. It didn’t make her any less skittish about what was between them, but he could see she’d gotten a handle on that, too. More or less.

“I need some reconnaissance down at the Pickman Gallery. Lotta raiders down that way only they’ve suddenly gone real quiet. Like uncomfortable post coitus quiet. I need to know if there’s something goin’ on that should be stopped.”

“Okay. I’m on it.”

“Just like that?  Not even gonna ask what I'm payin'?”

“Yeah.” She seemed hesitant, like she didn’t want to just leave and get on with it. She was mulling something over in her head.

“Cap for your thoughts?” he asked, pushing away from the wall to get closer. She was actually clean for once – not that he minded a little mud and blood – and all he could smell was soap and woman. It was more than mildly intoxicating considering how much Med-X he’d taken on top of his usual Mentats. His senses had a bit more clarity than he felt was good for him. Good thing it wasn’t Jet, he thought to himself. He’d have wrestled her to the floor by now.

“You said you wanted to take a walk. Do you…do you want to come with me?” She turned shy and wouldn’t meet his eyes.

“Not much point in me paying you to do the job if I’m there, is it?”

“I know, but still…you want to?” She had been fiddling with the brim of her hat, held in her hands, but now she looked at his face again, clear green eyes shining in the dim light of the sun shining through the shutters. If she’d asked him to walk into hell, he probably would have said yes. This wasn’t about the job; she wanted his company. No, he was not a fool.

“All right, Vaultsicle. I’ll come with you. You look like my kind of trouble. And it’s obvious you like trouble.” Her face lit up like a sunrise and he smiled. He reached out and tucked a stray lock of fiery hair behind her ear. She stilled under his hand, her eyes cautious and wide. He saw her pulse jump in her throat above the collar of the same road leathers she’d had on before. The invisible pull was palpable.

“Maybe this isn’t such a good idea.”

“Oh, no, Sunshine, it’s a great idea.” He pulled away with sheer force of will. “I just need to make a general announcement, all right?”

“Okay, I need to resupply anyway. Meet you at the gate?”

“Sure.”

She went back down the spiral stairs, and he followed to watch her every step of the way. At the bottom she looked back up as if she’d known and gave him a grin. Damn, this was gonna be one hell of a ride.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’m paraphrasing and condensing a lot of the dialogue to suit myself because I prefer the way it flows in my head. Some stuff will remain the same, because it’s already pretty much perfect (lookin' over at you Nick Valentine, waiting in the wings), but I figure most people who’ve played the game - over and over - are tired of hearing the same lines all the time.
> 
> If you're following along questline style, this covers pretty much all the missions you get in Goodneighbor, Mac's personal quest, as well as taking the Castle and various radiant quests are implied, and of course the Big Dig. Main storyline is somewhere post Unlikely Valentine, and is also after the Eddie Winter quest. Feedback is always appreciated!
> 
> Thank you to all who have commented and given kudos so far. Each one was squee'd over with entirely too much schoolgirl enthusiasm. I will try to read and reply to each comment as long as I can, because feedback is important and goes both ways, imho.


	3. Build Me a Better World

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Hancock is a handy man to have around, and gets to dirty his hands in unexpected ways.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "You’re not just a scrappy fighter, you’re a helper. I mean, you didn’t have to make that settlement. You don’t have to do what Preston asks of you. Or Daisy. Or me. I mean, yeah, caps are good and all, but what are you really getting out of it?”
> 
> “I guess…I guess I’m tired of seeing how fucked up the world is. I want to make it better. No one else seems to be doing it, so I have to do it myself.”
> 
> “I like that about you, Vaultsicle. The world needs more people like you.”
> 
> “I’m working on that,” she replied.

The Pickman Gallery turned out to be the kind of problem Hancock wasn’t sure he needed to clear up. It was abundantly obvious Pickman had something against raiders, and he wasn’t too sure that was a bad thing. Although what the serial killer did with them afterwards made his stomach turn a bit. Nora’s response surprised him, however. She studied each painting, looking them over thoroughly without touching, skirting the pile of dismembered bodies in the middle of the room with care, both making sure she didn’t slip in the blood that was everywhere or topple the deliberate way the corpses were stacked.

“If you ignore the medium,” she said softly, as if she didn’t want to disturb the hush in the house, “they’re really quite good.”

“That’s twisted.”

“Oh, c’mon, face it. It’s no worse than what raiders do to the people they kill, and is at least…aesthetically creative. Have to say, though, the resale value might not stand the test of time once these start decomposing.” She had the nerve to grin impishly.

“Heh, they say all art’s ephemeral, right?” He took a look around himself, wondering just what Nora could see in the gruesome works of art that he was missing. “There are some sick fucks out there in the world. This has got to be in the top three weirdest things I’ve seen, though.  I'll hafta put the word out, keep my people away from here.”

They fought their way through waves of raiders also trying to get at Pickman, and he thought for sure she was just going to kill everything they came across, and she mostly did, making great use of the narrow hallways and her supply of grenades. She had some seriously accurate aim. But she surprised him and let Pickman live. She started picking off the raiders that had the artist cornered one by one, only getting into the thick of it when they started shooting back. Hancock admired her style, quick, clean and lethal. She used a highly modified 10mm pistol that almost looked elegant in her small hands. It was clear she was comfortable with it.

Pickman was so grateful for their erstwhile rescue that he gifted her with his own knife, the one Hancock was sure he’d been using to skin the dead raiders with to make his…masterpieces. Nora hefted it carefully in her hands, probably thinking the same thing, but accepted it without a qualm. Then she held it to his throat and whispered, “I hear about your tastes broadening, I’ll be paying you another visit.”

“There is only one muse that calls me, killer girl,” Pickman intoned in a smooth voice that made Hancock’s skin crawl. The artist seemed quite taken with Nora too, and that also made his skin crawl, but in a totally different way.

“See that it stays that way.”

They escaped to the street and open sky where Nora lifted her face to the rain, as if seeking benediction from it. It plastered her hair into a snarled rope, streaked away the blood on her face. He was relieved to see none of it was hers.

“You handled yourself well in there, sister,” he remarked.

“Thanks. You too.”

“Huh. Feel like I was just there to be eye candy.”

“You had my back,” she said, tipping her head to the side to glance at him.

“Yeah well, I'm the one who asked you to come here.  It would be pretty crappy of me to let you get shot over it.” They both fell silent, letting the rain wash them down.

“Where to, Hancock?” she asked after a few minutes. She sounded like she didn’t really care where they went. He’d had the impression that she was testing him, taking him with her to the Gallery. It made sense, after all. They barely knew each other, and it was a good way to know just how he was in a fight. He could say the same about her. She kicked him right in the protective instincts, but it was evident she didn’t need him. But, hey, if she wanted to bumble along together, he wasn’t gonna complain by any means.

“You’re the boss, I go where you go.” _Well, that just sounded corny, and maybe a tiny bit desperate_ , he cringed inwardly. But she didn’t seem to notice. Until she turned her eyes on him and he saw them crinkle at the edges like she was holding in a laugh.

“I’m the boss, eh?”

“How about, you lead, I’ll follow,” he offered, hoping it sounded better.

“That’s Mac’s line,” she scowled, but it was teasing.

“I must be spending too much time with him.”

“There’s worse ways to spend time,” she said agreeably. He grinned. She grinned back and took a look at her Pip-Boy, scrolling through menus until she found something that made her brighten. “Well, apparently there’s a place nearby that Preston wants to turn into a settlement. Wanna help me set it up?”

“Sure.”

“I should get back to Sanctuary Hills at some point too, see how it’s doing. Plus, I need to drop off some things.”

“That where you live?”

“Yes. It’s up north a piece, by Concord.”

“All right, let’s get this show on the road.”

She set a good pace, careful in the more populated areas of downtown and before long they were near the river, on the north side of Diamond City. Outside of the green wall that shut the world out from their brand of civilization she consulted her Pip-Boy’s map and saw that the place she was looking for was only about a block away, but the route was choked with ruined buildings. She looked around and found a fire escape leading up the side of a building, connected to the street level by some scaffolding. She scaled it to reach the rooftops, picking her way carefully through debris and leaping across narrow gaps between the buildings until she looked down into a narrow strip of pavement and dirt tucked between the buildings. He reached her side just as she switched out her 10mm for a long barreled .308 rifle with an impressive scope. He wondered if she’d built it or bought it. Or maybe even scavved it. It was amazing what bodies had on them sometimes.

“Why the hell does Preston want me to build a settlement here in downtown, for crying out loud?” Nora asked after sniping off the half dozen raiders that had set up shop in the small space. “Who would want to live here?”

“There’s a lot of people just looking for a safe place to sleep,” he replied. “And it’s close to Diamond City, where there’s traders at least.” He tried to keep any sourness out of his voice. He didn’t know if she’d been to the ‘great, green jewel’ yet, and while he hated that place, he didn’t want to skew her view of it.

“Still…” She made her way down to another fire escape and jumped from there to cross over the rooftops of the makeshift shacks the raiders had built before leaping down to street level. Her movements had a self-assured choreography that told him she did that a lot. “The constant gunfire is gonna make it hard for anyone to be happy here.”

“You’d be surprised how used to it you get.” He found his way to the same fire escape she’d used. He would never have noticed it if he hadn’t been watching her. “How’d you know this thing would be here on the building anyway?”

“Hmm? Oh, most every building taller than three stories had to have fire escapes before the war. Safety regulations.”

“It’s a great way to get to the skyline,” he commented, impressed.

“It is. Sometimes, especially downtown, it’s the best way to travel if you’re alone. Easy to snipe and hide, and generally not draw attention to yourself if that’s what you’re going for. Little trick I learned from the Gunners, although they don’t tend to hide much.”

“Then how come you ended up so beat up the first time you waltzed through my town?”

She thought back to that horrible day she’d stumbled into Goodneighbor, bleeding and exhausted. “I admit, I got caught out. I was looking for something else entirely, so I was at street level. Damned super mutants came pouring out of that wrecked office building around the corner and rushed me. I took that hit in the leg and had to hide behind a burned out bus just to wrap it up real quick.” She sounded disgusted. He knew which building she meant, too. Fahrenheit was always after him to round up the Watch and clear the place out for good. They were a hazard to traders coming through.

“You managed to get away, though.”

“Barely. I was so afraid I’d run into a blind alley, then I saw the neon sign and the door. Nice touch there, by the way.”

“Thanks.” He took a good look around now that he was down on the ground too. The spot was fortified on all sides by buildings, with only a door at each end, and a third entryway in a tiny alley that could be easily blocked off if she wanted. It was more like a courtyard than anything. Sure, there was the sound of fighting all around, and occasional super mutant taunts, but it was fairly secure. “This is pretty secluded and the walls around it will make it easy to defend. Better block off those fire escapes though, or someone else will have the same idea you did.”

“I suppose. It’s just so small, though. And yes, I had that thought too.”

He looked up, seeing at least three stories’ worth of vertical space. “Build up, not out.”

“Hmm, good point. I could always put guard towers up on the escapes. The view at least would be good. Well, let’s get to work.”

She took off her armor so she could move around more easily and started scrapping almost everything the raiders had built, recycling the parts so she could build her own things. She even stripped the dead raiders for anything useful, right down to the clothes on their backs. Then they stacked the bodies outside the walls and set fire to them, cremating the whole pile of them. He helped her build stairs, walls, floors and ceilings until it got dark.

“We should stop, get some rest,” he said, breathing heavily. There was something infinitely satisfying about building with his own two hands that he’d missed. Even the rain that was still pouring down on them hadn’t interfered with the joy of making the place safe and habitable.

“Yeah, you’re right. I’m tired of being soaked. Some shelter and dinner would be good.” Only one of the shacks still remained after her recycling spree, with a single rickety metal table and a dirty mattress on the floor. She dropped her pack next to it and spread her sleeping bag on the mattress. He had one of his own too, tucked up on top of his pack. He wasn’t sure where he was going to put it, but then again, he hadn’t planned on sleeping anyway. Someone would need to stand guard just in case those raiders had friends, and she needed her sleep, softskinned little human that she was.

“What do they call this place?” he asked as she started putting together a quick little fire in a metal ring. She stripped off her wet jacket and shirt and got a dry one out of her pack. She shivered a little in her tee and he could plainly see her nipples through it. He tore his eyes away before he did something stupid. Especially since she then casually took off her pants and replaced them with dry jeans. Was she trying to kill him?

"Hangman’s Alley.” Her voice was brisk and it helped calm his urge to throw her back on that dirty mattress.

“Alley is right. What do you want to do about that open space at the end?”

“Figured I’d move that guard post I didn’t scrap to block it off. And I’ll keep that chained door shut. That way there’s only one way in or out. What do you think?”

“Like Goodneighbor.” He nodded approval. “Good plan.”

“Well, that was the idea.” She had an impish face on and he cracked a smile. She was adorable and his carnal urge shifted to something less heated. Something slower and…sweeter? She cooked Pork’n’Beans in the can and made a face, but dumped it in a bowl and ate it just the same. She offered him some, but he shook his head.

“You got some RadAway for dessert?” he asked.

“Yeah.” The way she said it made him think she was rueful. He tried to think of life from her perspective. It wasn’t pretty.

“Still getting used to it, huh?” he asked, slouching down onto the bare floor to sit comfortably across the tiny fire from her. She was kneeling on her sleeping bag. All the furniture they’d managed to scrounge up from the raiders’ shacks was still piled up outside, waiting under a hastily thrown tarp to be repurposed in the new home they were creating. She took a look around.

“Yeah. You think I would be after all these months. This world sucks ass, but it’s all I got now. Gotta make the best of it. Rads and violence and chaos. Sure is a change for me.”

“What did you do…ya know, before the War?”

“I was a defense attorney.”

“A what?”

“A lawyer. I defended people against accusations of wrongdoing.”

“Any good at it?” he asked curiously. He knew the old world had had a slew of laws to keep things in line, something this new world did not have. It explained a lot about her and her apparent need to save everyone she could.

“I was, actually.”

“I’m not surprised. You strike me as a helper. There’s not enough people like you in the world.”

“I’ve noticed. This place is so much crazier than I ever thought it would be. The sheer volume of violence is a bit overwhelming.”

“The Commonwealth provides,” he mused.

“It sure does. I have to admit, I kinda like putting down the bad guys. In my day, violence was rarely the right answer, regardless of the number of people who thought so.”

“And now?”

“Now…” she sighed. “Now, it’s like a sport. See how many baddies you can kill before they see you.” She seemed abashed by her own admission, but he smiled broadly.

“Hey, you help people who need helping, and hurt people who need hurting. It’s not a hard distinction.”

“You’re right. It should be hard, but it isn’t. I never knew there was such an aggressive person inside me.” She fiddled with her leftover Pork’n’Beans and finally scraped the bowl into the fire.

“Aggression has its place. But it’s good to see someone building something out of the ruins too. It’s admirable.”

“Thank you, Hancock.”

“Any time.” He pushed himself to his feet. “You get some sleep. I’ll keep watch tonight.”

“You’re not tired?”

“Nah. Ghoul, remember?”

“Like I could forget. Oh! Sorry, that came out wrong. Honestly, I don’t mind the way you look.” She tried for an apologetic grin, lopsided and cute.

“No worries.” Man, he had to get away from her before he touched her. Assuming she’d let him in the first place. “Get some sleep,” he repeated and went down out of the shack.

He closed the single door she’d opened and made sure it was locked. Then he wandered through the tiny area, thinking about where to put water pumps and a garden. Funny how easily he slipped into her mindset of building a better place for people to live safely and without fear. In the darkness he pulled the guard tower she’d talked about into the end of the alley, blocking off the opening the way she wanted. He took his time and tried to keep it quiet as he dragged and shoved the heavy tower, so he didn’t wake her. It kept him busy and time passed without him realizing it. The sky was lightening with dawn before it was in place to his satisfaction and he brushed off his hands.

“Hey, thanks,” she said, chipper and bright in the early morning light when she saw what he’d done.

“You're welcome, Vaultsicle,” he said, smiling ridiculously at the pretty picture she made with the sun in her hair. God, he was getting sappy. _You're supposed to be a flirtatious playboy, remember?_

She sighed, oblivious to his inner conflict. “Back to building, huh?”

“Let’s get at it.”

They assembled the pieces they’d made the day before and started creating what would be the residence of the settlement, and as the sun dropped behind the surrounding buildings, they stepped back to see how it looked. There was the street level, where she put up a couple shopfronts with a cheeky grin to him, reminding him of KLEO and Daisy’s shops, with the floor of the ‘house’ hanging over them, making the dirty alley at least partially protected from the weather. On the first floor she put the furniture, sofas and tables and chairs, then on the floor above that, the beds. Well, sleeping bags, anyway. In each corner of the blocky dwelling, she put up a machine gun turret, cobbled together with steel and oil and circuitry scrapped from a hundred different things. Her pack held a never ending supply of bits and pieces. No wonder she always dropped it off her shoulder whenever she could.

“So now I need to make some water pumps and I think that hill over there has enough dirt to put a garden. What do you think?”

“I was thinking the same thing.” She smiled at him, and it was full of warmth. It made his insides turn to mush. He wasn’t used to people treating him like a person, like his opinion mattered. But she did. He didn’t quite know how to process it, but he could feel it tugging on his heartstrings.

They got back to work after a quick break for something to eat, cobbling up pumps with concrete and gears, sinking them into the ground so they’d pull up the groundwater and purify it. Nora pulled out a bag of mutfruit seedlings and planted them in a row along the edge of a wall near the guard tower’s new position, and she planted tatoes and carrots on the dirt pile that led to the other door, the one that was chained and shut.

“Now I just have to build a generator and the beacon and we’ll be all done.”

“Okay.” He watched her scramble up to an awning overhanging some work benches she’d left intact and she built a generator with an assortment of metal and oil and gears. Once it was purring she popped a pill in her mouth and put together a radio beacon, fiddled with the signal until she got it just the way she wanted it and connected the beacon to the generator with a thin copper wire. As she climbed down the stairs, she opened the door, letting in anyone who wanted to make this their new home.

“There,” she said, brushing off her hands with a look of satisfaction on her face.

“What did you take?”

“Hmm? Oh, a grape mentats. For some reason, whenever I take them when I’m making a settlement, I get more people. I think it helps me put together the bits better, makes the signal stronger, or something.”

“Mentats have that effect. They make you smarter.”

“Are you saying I’m not smart enough on my own?” She sounded arch and he laughed, holding up his hands in mock defeat.

“I would never say such a thing to a lady. But damn, have I become a bad influence? I like it. You were such a straight-laced little thing when we first met.” He grinned when she made a face at him.

“Yeah, well, they have their uses.  And I still don’t take nearly as many chems as _you_ do.”

“God, I hope not. I can’t get addicted, but you could turn into a real mess.”

“I know, I’m careful about it.” She looked around at what they’d built and seemed pleased. “Think that will do it?” she asked. She put away her tools and started getting back into her armor.

“Yeah. And once there’s enough settlers here, you can start arming them to defend themselves, too. They won’t have to rely on the turrets alone.”

“I always do,” she assured him with a nod. “Well, I think that’s enough work here. Shall we get on the road?”

“Sure.”

***

They were meandering in a sort of northern direction, trying to find a way across the river, and came across some raiders in Back Street Apparel. Nora casually disarmed a tripwire attached to a missile launcher trap, which made his blood run cold at the thought of it going off in her direction, and took care of the two raider guards standing outside, as well as the two turrets hailing bullets at them. Hancock was again impressed with her calm accuracy with her pistol.

They snuck in through the door and listened to one raider telling another a story about pranking some poor fool with fire and mattresses and the river before she popped off a couple rounds into each of their heads. He could see the flint in her eyes and vowed right then and there to never make her angry. There was another turret, easily dispatched, and then more raiders hiding in old back rooms and offices. She was efficient and swift, always trying to take them out with headshots. He knew the raiders had no appreciation for her mercy, but he did. Her deadly aim was terrifying.

“Remind me never to sneak up on you,” he murmured.

“Hey Hancock, don’t sneak up on me, I’ll blow a hole in your tricorn,” she murmured back, deadpanned but with a humorous edge. He smothered a chuckle.

Once the place was cleared she made her way through the wreckage carefully, scavving up anything useful. She picked locks with ease and scooped the contents into her slowly swelling backpack.

“Someone knows their way around a bobby pin,” he drawled. “Nimble, aren’t ya?”

“I don’t see you complaining,” she replied cheekily, throwing a box of shotgun ammo his way. He was pleased she thought of him too in her scavenging. He was enjoying her company, far more than he actually had expected. She had a sharp wit, was unashamedly lethal but generous. He hadn’t had that in so long he could barely remember it. “What’s theirs is ours.”

“Heh, well, they have no further use for it.” He toed a body with his foot. “Hey, this one has a pretty good armor piece if you want it.”

“Sure, can you grab it for me, please?”

“Can do.” He stooped down and unhooked the leg bracer from the body, tossing it to her. “Looks better than what you’ve got on.”

“Hmm, you’re right.” She pulled the leather one off her shin and strapped the metal one on. “What do you think? Am I fashionable?” She batted her eyes at him and made him laugh.

“Sunshine, you’re always gorgeous.” He cursed himself inwardly. It had just slipped out. But she wasn’t upset, in fact, she beamed at him. Did she really not know how beautiful she was?

“You really think so?”

“I, uh, yeah, I do.”

“Smooth, Hancock,” she snorted.

“Hey, I try not to hit on my friends. Deliberately, anyway.”

“Oh, really? And how many of those do you have? Two?”

“Three.” His heart was in his throat, hammering so hard he could barely speak. Why did it seem so increasingly important for him to prove he cared about her? Really cared, not ‘I want to get in your pants’ cared. He waited to see how she would react. She turned back to him slowly, the light from a nearby lantern shining in her face.

“Is that what we are, friends?”

“Yeah, I'd say we are. I admit to having some, uh, impure thoughts now and then, but hey…who doesn’t?” The lie wanted to stick in his throat, but there was no way he was going to 'fess up to having ‘impure thoughts’ about her all the damned time.

“Hmm, maybe we’ll get to act on those sometime.” The breath whooshed out of him like he’d been hit in the solar plexus. She’d stolen the words right out of his head.

“Maybe. But not now, okay? Too much gore in the room.”

“Okay, Hancock,” she said easily enough, but the glitter in her eyes remained. “C’mon, we’ve got another room to loot upstairs.”

He followed her in a state of bemusement. It was like she knew what effect she had on him, and either wasn’t serious about it, or was and didn’t quite know how to go after it. Like she felt she had been too brazen, or that he might be tired of having people throw themselves at him. He was, but not if she was the one doing the throwing. He was fairly certain she wasn’t after chems and cheap, meaningless sex. That didn’t jive with what he knew about her. He could be wrong, of course. But there was something more about her, a light inside he didn’t want to see go out if he could help it. This world was harsh and ugly, but she was not. He wanted to make sure she never was. And that was frightening, because there was a voice in the back of his mind that told him he wasn’t even remotely deserving of her attention unless he changed some things.

“Ya know, you’re not what I expected,” he said as he watched her pick another lock on a safe and emptying the ammo and pre-war money into her pack. She moved on around the topmost room, looting and pillaging with practiced ease.

“Why do you say that?” she answered, absently looking over a countertop littered with junk. She plucked up a pack of duct tape with a triumphant exclamation, then turned to face him when he was silent. “Hancock?”

“I had my doubts about you, I admit. I mean, I knew you could handle yourself, look at how you took down Bobbi, and you got Kent out of that mess. I dunno, maybe seeing you in a fight is just different than picturing it in my head, I guess.”

“Why, because I don’t have an army in my back pocket?” Something about her tone was a little strange with that comment, like maybe she did actually have an army in her pocket.

“Heh, maybe. But it’s more than that. You’re not just a scrappy fighter, you’re a helper. I mean, you didn’t _have_ to make that settlement. You don’t _have_ to do what Preston asks of you. Or Daisy. Or me. I mean, yeah, caps are good and all, but what are you really getting out of it?”

“I guess…I guess I’m tired of seeing how fucked up the world is. I want to make it better. No one else seems to be doing it, so I have to do it myself.”

“I like that about you, Vaultsicle. The world needs more people like you.”

“I’m working on that,” she replied, something twinkling in her eyes. “And thanks. You’re not so bad yourself, you know. Goodneighbor is way better than any other place I’ve visited, late, unlamented extortionists notwithstanding.”

“Yeah, well, it wasn’t always. I, uh, I just needed to get that off my chest. Wanted you to know that at least someone’s noticing your hard work, even if it’s just a wasted ghoul. We ready?” She gave him a long look, and appeared to be on the verge of saying something about the way he put himself down, to judge from her expression, but she swallowed it.

“Yeah, let’s get going.”

Once they were done looting Back Street Apparel, they continued on their way.

“Do we want to chance the bridge or head for the railroad tracks?” she asked, sounding brisk and professional again.

“Well, the bridge will have raiders, and the tracks will have ferals. Which would you rather tangle with?”

“Ahh, the joys of the Commonwealth.” She consulted her Pip-Boy again. “If we get to the tracks, I can check in with Oberland Station and Graygarden. Let’s go that way, if you won’t mind the ferals.”

“I don’t mind.” There was actual concern there about the ferals, he noticed. He wondered if that was because she didn’t like them herself or because he was a ghoul and might feel some sympathy for them. He did, of course, but not in the sense that he was unwilling to put them down.

“All right.”

They set off to the west, keeping in the shadows in case anything could see them. Then it was through underbrush and woods once they got away from downtown proper. Nothing bothered them though, not even the ferals he was expecting. All in all, it was a good day.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, I wanted to showcase some settlement building. I love making settlements, and Hangman’s Alley has grown to be one of my favorite challenges. And yes, you can reach it via the rooftops from the north side of Diamond City. In my game, it’s built almost exactly the way I’ve described, and with the addition of grape Mentats to my inventory, as well as a pretty green dress, a newscap and some snazzy sunglasses, my settler count is already at 15 people in that tiny spot (the beacon’s been active for about two in-game weeks, as of October 1st, irl time).
> 
> Your thoughts on settlements? The story too?


	4. Bemused and Beguiled

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Hancock makes a rather startling discovery.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> “You all right?” she asked, giving him a quick check to make sure he had all his limbs and wasn’t bleeding.
> 
> “I’m fine.”
> 
> “Well, that went well.” She looked around at the carnage and made a disparaging face. “Sloppy.”
> 
> “Yeah,” he said, lost in the fog of Jet. Everything was slow around him, everything but her. She was a nimbus of light, of motion.
> 
> “Hancock, are you high?”
> 
> “Maybe.”
> 
> She laughed, her carefree laugh that he loved so much and heard so rarely. And just like that he knew...
> 
> "Dumbass, we're not finished yet," she chortled.

“I just want to explore a little,” she said, and he followed her, because apparently he was an idiot and a glutton for punishment and this little Vaultsicle could find more trouble than he could. Forest Grove Marsh was swarming with ferals. But neither of them got seriously hurt – although she’d gotten bitten on the hand, easily cleaned up and stimpaked away – and she picked and looted her way through the bodies with such nonchalance he just stood by and watched. And then they pushed on, just another day in the Commonwealth.

She seemed to do that, he noticed. Or she’d get caught up in something totally unrelated and get distracted, like finding that cat for that kid in Vault 81. She’d even given them some of her own fusion cores to keep their power running, gaining entrance to the reclusive and mildly xenophobic Vault. He had totally not wanted to go there, but she was curious, and he had to admit, it was interesting seeing her inside a Vault, and one so unlike her own, according to her. He had at least gotten her to stop there and rest for a day. The crass racism got to him, but he was used to ignoring it.

He _wasn’t_ used to having someone frown behind the racists’ backs and make rude comments of her own, or say people in glass houses shouldn’t throw stones, whatever that meant.

“Why do people hate on ghouls so much?” she’d asked him when they settled in to a shack outside where traders and caravans normally stayed.

“Because we’re monsters, didn’t you know?”

“Yeah right, cuz _everyone_ else in the wasteland is a perfect angel,” she’d snorted. “Ghouls are the best. Well, mostly, anyway.”

He hadn’t known what to say to that, so he said nothing. He just watched her sleep. They were pretty safe, even though they were outside. The area was fenced in and it was close enough to the Vault entrance that they could get inside if they needed to. The residents had extended a wary welcome to her, although not to him. And oh, the looks on their faces when she said that was fine, she’d stay outside with him. He’d gotten a good chuckle over that one. And in the morning they’d been on their way again.

They hiked to Oberland Station, a tiny outpost with just two women braving it out. Once there, she organized her loot while he kept watch. There was a single turret swinging back and forth, looking for things to shoot at in its mindless machine way, but it didn’t beat a pair of eyes, he figured. She left some materials there before they got on their way, following the railroad tracks.

“At some point I need to come back here and make it a proper settlement.”

“Why not now?” he asked.

“I really should get back to Sanctuary,” she said, with something almost like regret. He got the feeling she loved building and recruiting new settlers, but she didn’t much like dealing with whatever responsibilities had been heaped on her in her own home community. If she kept going the way she did, though, he had no doubt that one step at a time she would rebuild the whole Commonwealth.

He decided he’d never made a better decision than to get out on the road with a spitfire redhead who took no shit from anyone. He couldn’t remember ever enjoying himself so much…with his clothes on, at any rate. He hadn’t even been hitting the chems as hard as he usually did. He didn’t want to miss a single thing she did or said.

They crossed the railroad bridge, reasonably sure no one would spot them, following the tracks up to Graygarden. Nora checked in with Supervisor White and traded some of her junk and less powerful weapons she knew she wouldn’t use with Supervisor Green before they continued on. It was starting to get dark, but she pushed on. It had been over a week since they left Hangman’s Alley, and she never stopped. She never gave in to her exhaustion, or the fire that burned in her to see it all, to discover new places, to find out what had survived and what hadn’t. To kill that which would kill her in turn. He was pretty sure part of that was because she also didn’t want to have nightmares in her sleep. He could relate, but he didn’t need to sleep as much as she did. She ran herself ragged, every moment of every day, just to keep the emptiness at bay. It was heartbreaking and courageous to watch.

“You wanna stop soon? I can see well in the dark, but I’m not sure about you,” he said, jogging a bit to keep pace with her. Man she could eat up the miles like it was nothing. While running on nothing. He was determined to get her to stop tonight. To eat something. He was positive now the round the clock, dead to the world sleep she’d enjoyed in his State House had less to do with chems and injuries than it had to do with her body totally shutting down because she was safe under his watch. They’d barely even known each other then. It felt like a long time ago already but it hadn’t been more than a month, although in that time she’d done so much it was astounding. She was an inferno. She had to find a middle ground in her lifestyle or she would burn out.

“Yeah, we probably should find somewhere to make camp.” They had just cleared the area around Jalbert Brothers Disposal, and there was a trailer in good shape with an actually clean mattress in it. But all that radioactive waste was potentially fatal to her. Felt good to him, but he wasn’t quite the selfish bastard everyone made him out to be. They couldn’t stay there. They moved on, heading west. According to her Pip-Boy’s map there was a small park nearby.

When they arrived they found a few dilapidated cabins around and she scouted for bugs or other unfriendlies. A few dead bloatflies later, and the place was cleared. There were signs against feeding the bears, but they didn’t spot any yao guai and decided it was safe enough. One cabin had a radioactive barrel buried close to it, but he steered her away from it to the other side of the park, where the radius of the rads didn’t reach. Standing between the cabins was a rusted out playground. Splintered seesaws, empty jungle gym, crumbling monkey bars.

“Those are some lame torture devices,” he quipped without thinking.

“It’s a playground, you dolt,” she retorted good-naturedly enough. But he watched her stare at it with something like hunger in her eyes. _Her baby_ , he thought. _She’s thinking about her baby_. He could have kicked himself for making a joke about it. The torture wasn’t lame at all, if the evidence of her body language said anything. But she didn’t comment further, just moved off the clear out a cabin for them to make camp in.

She started a fire in an old tire rim she’d pulled off a dilapidated car outside and laid out her sleeping bag inside a falling down cabin. At least it had a roof, if not intact walls. He spread his out opposite the fire from hers. He could stand some sleep too at some point.

“I see you’re finding new and interesting foods to try,” he commented as she skewered a bloatfly on a long pointed stick and stuck it over the fire. Her mood after seeing the playground seemed to have improved, or she was making an effort to hide it. He had a feeling like he should have apologized, but she didn’t seem upset. She never seemed to want sympathy for her woes. He could respect that even as he felt a bit helpless about it.

“Mac taught me some things while we traveled together.”

“How is the young pup?” She grinned at his description of the youthful MacCready and settled into a comfortable spot on her butt in front of the fire, watching it burn.

“He’s going to head back out to get his son and bring him back with him to Sanctuary Hills. It’s far safer than living on the frontier, as he calls it. He’s a good kid.”

“That he is, for an ex-Gunner mercenary.”

“Hey, we all do what we have to to survive.”

“I guess you’d know, huh?”

“I do,” she agreed. Almost before he knew what she was doing she had taken off her armor, boots and socks, and shimmied out of her jeans, dropping them in a pile before removing her filthy plaid shirt. Next off was her shirt, a plain tee with too much blood on it. She even unsnapped the Pip-Boy from her wrist, shaking her arm as if it was heavy and she needed a break.

“What are you doing?” he asked, throat going so dry he could barely croak out the words.

“Changing into something clean,” she answered innocently, not even looking at him. She must have sensed something though because she looked at him suddenly and flushed. This was the second time she’d basically stripped in front of him. After being soaked at Hangman’s Alley it had made sense, but why was she doing it now? “Does it bother you?”

“Not at all, Sunshine. I’ll just admire the view.” There that sounded more like his usual self, didn’t it? She sat there in her clingy, white tank top and skimpy underwear and expected him not to make a move? Woman was crazy. Especially after she’d flirt and banter right back at him every time he did it.

But he stayed where he was.

She went through her pack until she found some cleanish jeans and a flannel which she didn’t bother to button up. Occasionally she turned the meat on the spit she’d made. It started to rain but it was cozy and warm in the cabin and reasonably dry. The rain poured off the opening in the wall, but it pooled outside rather than in. He couldn’t get enough of just watching her. He loved to watch her fight. She had so much fire that she unleashed upon any hapless thing that got in her way. She was glorious, a virago in every sense of the word. But watching her in quiet moments like these was rare. And therefore more precious. He knew his attraction to her had started out as a purely physical thing, but it had changed. He enjoyed her company, her wit. He was falling for her. And he had no idea what to do with it. He didn’t _do_ love. That was not who he was.

He lit a cigarette and smoked it idly, not paying any attention to it. It was just something to do with his hands. She’d left her feet bare, he saw. They were slim and white with the nails painted green. Pretty, just like the rest of her. Didn’t matter that he could see chips in the paint as if it was really old. It was a nice touch.

“Sorry, I’ve gotten used to being on my own. It’s not like Dogmeat ever minded, and I’ve learned that modesty is way overrated in this new world of mine.”

“Don’t apologize. Not much for modesty myself.”

“Says the ghoul wrapped in forty layers of frill and velvet frockcoat.” There was a suggestively teasing note in her voice and he felt a grin beginning. She’d started it this time. Guess that meant he had to finish it, right?

He leaned forward to toss the butt of his cigarette into the flames and growled just loud enough for her to hear, “If you want me to strip, just ask.”

She leaned back against the wall and laughed. It was carefree but rusty; she didn’t give in to its urge much. He could count on one hand the number of times he’d heard it outside of combat. “Are you always this easy to flirt with?”

“I try to be,” he returned, his own back against a pile of debris that he’d messed around with until it was halfway comfortable. It wasn’t like any of the chairs they’d found were worth trying to sit on.

“Speaking of your frock, how’d you make it all into one piece? I’ve noticed the blue waistcoat seems to be attached.”

“Been looking closely, have you?” She looked so caught out that he laughed. When he settled down, he pulled the edge out so she could see the seam. “The inside of the frock was wearing thin, so I sewed them together. Makes it sturdier, keeps it one piece. I’m figurin’ there ain’t another frockcoat out there anywhere to replace it with.”

“You do a lot of sewing? I didn’t know you were so…handy.”

“I’m good at a lot of things,” he purred. He couldn’t help it and she always dished it right back. She cracked a smile.

“Lord, what have I gotten myself into?” she mused.

“I’m shocked you haven’t heard the tales, Sunshine. I was sure Daisy would tell them all to you, the shameless gossip.”

“Oh, and I’m sure you buttered her up just to make sure she did,” Nora rejoined in the same joking tone. But he began to wonder exactly what she _had_ heard. It must have been good things judging by the fact that she had actively sought his company. And had stayed with him so far. Of course, he’d been an extremely good boy and kept his hands to himself. _No one to blame for that but yourself_. “I’m on to you, Hancock.”

“Yeah, how’s that?” He lounged a little more loosely, trying to get comfortable. The frank look she was giving him was doing things to his anatomy she probably didn’t want to know about. Or maybe she did?

“You’re the playboy junkie ghoul. Everyone knows that. There seems to be more to you than that, though, from what I can tell. A side you don’t show off much.”

“Go on, don’t stop now,” he urged when she paused to turn the meat again and wouldn’t meet his eyes.

“You never made a move when I was, um, recuperating. Or in Back Street Apparel for that matter.  Or since.”

“It would have been a shitty thing to do with your ribs and leg all beat up and you being all high on chems I’d given you. I said it before, I don’t do unwilling. And unconscious is unwilling. As for Back Street, well, I guess I wasn’t expecting you to be, uh, receptive. How is your leg, by the way?” he asked, just to change the subject.  He willfully ignored her last statement.

She absently rubbed the scar through her jeans and his eyes were riveted. “It’s fine. The damp makes it ache. Sucks to live in Boston at the moment.”

“Need a pick me up?”

“What have you got?” she asked, curiously.

“Oh, sister, I got it all.”

“I’ll bet you do.” The frank appraisal was still going on, but she kept her thoughts to herself. Instead she suddenly looked straight at him and said, “So, tell me about yourself, Hancock. What’s your story? You already know some of mine.”

He was reluctant. His past was dark and full of bitter recrimination ultimately leading to his ghoulification. He didn’t want to bring her down. And he didn’t want to make it a joke like he normally would. “Another time,” he said gently. She accepted that without looking hurt and shifted her feet around to check the meat. It drew his attention back to her painted toes. “So, dare I ask, where does a girl get nail paint?”

“Diamond City.” She said it with an edge to her voice. She caught his inquiring look and sighed. “I don’t like it there. Bunch of pretentious assholes. Like, really? You think because you live in a rusty shack built on top of old stadium seats that makes you better than the people living in rusty shacks but on grass? Pfft, it’s ridiculous. But it’s the biggest trading spot in the Commonwealth, and I hadn’t been to Goodneighbor yet at the time. I didn’t know I had much choice. I try to limit my time there,” she finished. _Note to self. Have Daisy find nail paint_.

“It must have its good points,” he said, just to keep the conversation going. He hated it there too, but he had his own reasons. “Like you said, there’s decent trading. And there’s Nick, too.”

“Yeah, that old detective is quite something. Let me tell you, I was not expecting something like him. Getting him out of that Vault where Skinny Malone was holding him was quite the experience.” Her tone changed when she talked about Valentine. He would have been envious but he knew Nick well, and knew he had that effect on people.

“Good ol’ Skinny Malone. Such a disappointment when it comes to Triggermen.” He paused before saying, “This world must be so strange to you. I know we’ve talked a bit about it before, but still, it’s gotta be a major adjustment.”

“That’s putting it mildly. Gangster wannabes and synthetic people and all the violence one could ever hope to find.” She sighed again and looked determined to get something off her chest. He waited. “Nick is helping me find my son. He was kidnapped…when I was in the Vault.”

“I know,” he said softly. She looked surprised. “Nora, your story has gotten around.”

“I think that’s the first time you’ve said my name,” she said, sounding breathless. He thought about it and decided she was probably right. Funny, how names had levels of intimacy when one thought about it. It was easy to call her by a nickname; it was affectionate and flirty. It was harder to actually say her name, like it gave them a more serious connection than before. Just as she felt she had to earn the right to call him John. Which she still hadn’t done, he noted.

“I can call you whatever you like,” he said, and he heard longing in his voice. He didn’t even care if she heard it too. He wanted her badly enough that he didn’t care if she knew it. It was getting difficult being on the road with her, having to take care of it himself when he knew she wasn’t looking. Well, he hoped she wasn’t looking. Right? Wasn’t there a whole kink for that?

 _Stop it, John, that isn’t helping_.

“Just don’t call me late for dinner,” she said in a sing-song way, confusing him and breaking his erotic reverie. “Pre-war joke. ‘Call me anything, just don’t call me late for dinner’. Speaking of which, ours is ready.” She sliced the bloatfly neatly in two and slid the meat onto a plate, handing it over the embers of the fire. He took it automatically before she burned her arm, not having expected her to share it. After all, he’d already told her he didn’t need to eat much. She dug up a fork and knife and handed those over too.

“What the hell do you have in that bag, the whole Commonwealth?” Now that he thought about it, he’d seen her use plates and bowls before.

“Feels like it sometimes. I recycle most of the junk, but some things are useful to carry around. Cups, plates, silverware. I hate eating like a savage, with my bare hands.” She tucked in to her own meal and ate methodically and quickly, as if she didn’t care for the taste but knew she needed the nutrients. It had to be frightening knowing that unless she hunted something up fresh and cooked the rads out of it, every bite she needed to survive had a chance at harming her. And on top of it, he was pretty sure pre-war kitchens hadn’t had irradiated and mutated bugs for people to subsist on. They’d had other sources of protein, so the taste was unfamiliar to her palate and probably unpleasant. No wonder she was so thin.

“Carrots make bloatfly and bloodbug tastier,” he said around a mouthful. “Wrap the meat around the carrot and cook it slowly. In case you’re interested.”

“Really? Anything else? I have to admit, I’m not a big fan of what there is to cook these days.”

“Tatoes go with just about everything, and there’s the assorted gourds and melons that are good on their own. Hubflowers are really only good for chems, but there are other flowers that are good for seasoning and such. Oh, radstag is good, if you can get it. And there’s always Brahmin.”

“Radstag, those are the two headed deer things?”

“Yeah.” She finished up and cracked open a purified water, swishing it around like she was trying to get the taste out of her mouth. “There’s dog,” he offered.

“Nope, can’t do it. I can’t eat dog. In my time they were pets. They still are if Dogmeat is anything to go by.”

“Yeah, but he ain’t a wild mongrel who wouldn’t think twice about eating you.” He opened his own water, irradiated and flat. He didn’t mind, but he’d rather have whiskey or vodka. Even a beer. He reminded himself that he’d wanted to get back to life on the road. What he’d said then turned over in his head and he nearly choked. There was a picture worth keeping him up at night. He had to change the subject away from…eating. “Tell me about your travels. You were gone a long time.”

“Well, let’s see. I set up a bunch of new settlements. You saw a couple of them today. Killed some super mutants at that water plant for Graygarden. Man, they were a bitch and a half. Oh, I fought a giant mutated crab thing,” she said brightly, wondering if he’d already heard about that one.

“Was that at the Castle?”

“You knew already!” she accused with a cheerful grin. “Yes, it was.”

“How does it feel to be General of the Minutemen? Do I need to watch my step around you now?”

“You didn’t before?”

“Cute.” He leered. “I think I could take you.”

“Hmm.” She gave the moment its due before going back to his question. “What’s it like? It’s like a shit ton of work is what it’s like. I feel like I never stop. But it’s good, I’m not complaining. It keeps me busy.”

 _I could keep you busy_ , he thought to himself. _So, so busy_. God, he needed to do something about this. She deserved something better than a tawdry one night stand or casual fling, and those were the only things he really knew how to do. He didn’t think something like a friendly occasional grope would suit her either. She didn’t seem to have any ties to anyone, or at least, none that she’d mentioned. She was an all or nothing kind of woman, he could tell from the way she fought, the way she pushed herself. All or nothing normally terrified him, but he was beginning to see its appeal. He could see himself being willing to wake up to her face every day, in being willing to see how often he could make her laugh.

 _Or make her do other things_ …

“Preston is a good guy, but I feel like he’s asking me to do too much,” she was saying, and he dragged his thoughts back to their conversation. He’d heard of Preston Garvey, of course. The tale of what happened at Quincy had spread like wildfire around the Commonwealth. He wondered how Nora had gotten involved with them. She must have fallen out of her Vault and right on top of the refugees. He didn’t know just how close to the truth he was.

“So say no.”

“It’s not that easy. I want to help people, I do. I just…well, I wish they would help themselves too.”

“They will. Give it time. When I took over Goodneighbor it was a shithole. Corrupt, violent. Scared. It’s taken me nearly ten years to get it running smoothly. And it still ain’t perfect.”

“You’ve been Mayor for ten years?”

“Yup. I was still a smoothskin then. I may be a ‘young’ ghoul, but I got respect.” He paused, waiting to see if there was anything else she wanted to ask. She looked like she did, but was too timid. In her own time, then, he decided. It could wait. He might act like he was his own favorite subject, but he really wasn’t. “Maybe that’s why Garvey wants you to resettle the Commonwealth so bad. Goodneighbor’s a great place, but it ain’t the kind of place where you go to raise a family in peace. And you’re the perfect face for the new Minutemen.”

“Hmm,” she hummed, thinking it over. Then she yawned. The fire had died down low and the rain had stopped. “I’m tired,” she said.

“Me too. But don’t worry, I’ll sleep with one eye open.”

“Keeping me safe again, Hancock?”

“Always.”

She slid out of her jeans and flannel shirt and got into the sleeping bag, turning her back to the embers, and him. She’d done that before, but usually only when she felt safe and secure. He hadn’t really put it into a pattern until now. _Doesn’t like to sleep in her clothes_ , he added to his mental file.

He waited until he knew she was asleep before he took care of the raging hard on he’d been hiding for what felt like hours. It didn’t take him long, and didn’t by any means cure his itch, but it made him think. _All might just be worth it_. He snuck back into the cabin and tried to rest.

***

He woke from a light doze just before dawn to hear her Pip-Boy pinging softly. She groaned and rolled over to grab it, flipping through the screens until she made the insistent ping stop.

“Ugh,” she spluttered, sitting up in the sleeping bag, disheveled and sleepy, her hair a tangled mess around her face. “What time is it, oh dark thirty?” She sighed. “Sunshine Tidings was hit by raiders coming from the Federal Ration Stockpile last night. They want me to clear them out.”

“Up and at’em, I guess,” he murmured, diligently not staring as she stood up and stretched out the kinks from sleeping on the ground. At least she’d slept.

“I hate that place, though. There’s so many hiding places and too many locked gates.”

“How do you even know that?”

“It’s hardly my first rodeo with those scumbags,” she said briskly, donning her jeans and buttoning up her flannel. She tugged on her boots and started piling on the armor she wore when she knew there would be combat ahead of her. He got over his bemused state and helped her latch the breastplate in place, carefully avoiding touching her skin. He didn’t think he’d be able to stop if he started and that wouldn’t help…what was it called? Sunshine Tidings. Awful name for a settlement. Once she’d gotten herself suited up, she pulled her fingers through her hair before braiding it into a cable down her back, securing the end with a bit of twine. “C’mon, if we push it we can be there in about an hour.”

She set a brisk pace, heading straight for a bunker outfitted with tents and tarps the way raiders liked it. At least they didn’t have too many dismembered bodies around, he saw. They crouched behind some trees when they got close and she signaled to him that she wanted to circle around and attack from the top of a ridge where she could snipe them off one by one. It was her usual attack position.

He, on the other hand, would storm right in with his shotgun and distract them from her sniping, hopefully without getting shot. He didn’t mind being her bait; it was a good system and had done well for them with ferals and mongrel dogs alike. Raiders were smarter, however. Well, smarter than ferals. But he was willing to take his chances. He knew now how good of a shot she was and they could use the early morning shadows for cover and hope the raiders were still too drunk and high to mount much of a defense.

The Raiders were sloppy, too. The sentry that was supposed to be keeping watch was asleep at his post, quickly and quietly dispatched with his combat knife. After that he was able to take out two more before the whole camp was alerted. He heard Nora’s .308 going off in measured beats as he blasted and bashed his way through the lazy fuckers.

Until the turret woke up. He quickly ducked behind a pillar of wood holding up the shack above when it started up, the ground all around him torn up from the shots. Two shots from Nora later, and the thing exploded and it was quiet again. He huffed on his Jet and waited for her to reach his side.

“You all right?” she asked, giving him a quick check to make sure he had all his limbs and wasn’t bleeding.

“I’m fine.”

“Well, that went well.” She looked around at the carnage and made a disparaging face. “Sloppy.”

“Yeah,” he said, lost in the fog of Jet. Everything was slow around him, everything but her. She was a nimbus of light, of motion.

“Hancock, are you high?”

“Maybe.”

She laughed, her carefree laugh that he loved so much and heard so rarely. And just like that he knew. He knew for certain that he was in love with this woman who could turn a raider camp into target practice in minutes. Even in his chem addled state he knew. It settled into his heartbeat, pulsed along his veins and suddenly didn’t scare him at all. This woman who didn’t judge his actions, who didn’t care what he looked like or how he sounded…this woman who most certainly didn’t need him for protection was his perfect match.

“Dumbass, we’re not finished yet,” she said, oblivious to his newfound knowledge. “This was just the beginning. We still gotta take out the ones inside.” She was still chortling. She tugged on his arm to get him moving and led him through a door he would never have seen hidden behind some vines.

She went stealthily through the corridors and between huge packing crates, picking off raiders with her 10mm now that they were in closer quarters.

“Gotta get a suppressor on this thing,” she muttered at one point, when she’d had a rare miss and the whole room boiled over with angry raiders now aware of their presence.

“Where’s the fun in that,” Hancock reproved with a smirk and took off from her side, whirling through and around the raiders with his shotgun. He was still high enough that it felt like he was moving underwater, but the shocked faces of the raiders told him he was like lightning. When they were all dead he stood at the other end of the room where a locked gate prevented them from going further and heaved for air.

“Nice work,” Nora complimented warmly as she strolled by to sit at the terminal. She’d scavved the password off a body and unlocked the gate using the terminal before he could even think of a reply. The Jet was dissipating now and the world caught up to him. His head pounded. “Here,” she said, putting a canister of water in his hands. “I still need you to be on your toes.”

“Thought you didn’t do many chems,” he said, drinking the water down in one long gulp.

“I don’t. But I’ve watched you do plenty at this point. I know what’s likely to happen when you come down.”

“It’s fuckin’ scary how observant you are,” he said, slurring a little as the comedown made him woozy. She just smiled softly and readied her weapon. Her slim hands were graceful on the black 10mm and for a moment he was caught by a flashing mental image of what they’d look like on him. He pushed it away. She was right, they weren’t done.

The ones that were left were cannier, and much less sloppy. They had a couple of close calls, but Nora’s deadly aim won out in the end, like it always did. It just took longer than normal. They found a haphazard mound of food, tools and purified water probably stolen from the settlement and he agreed to carry some of her things so she could bundle it up to take back to them. They followed a tunnel winding through what looked like an old sewer and came back to the surface in a small church, blasted and empty.

“Huh, so that’s what this place is,” she said taking a look around. She pointed out a broken window to a group of houses he could see not far away. “That’s Sunshine Tidings right there. Shit, no wonder they were able to be hit so hard. I’m gonna have to do something about that.”

She dragged a heavy pew over to the hatch they’d come out of, effectively blocking it off and led the way to her settlement and her very happy settlers. He saw what she meant about them helping themselves. They heaped praise on her for rescuing them, but among them, only two had anything resembling a decent weapon. The rest were just sort of fecklessly wandering around the community, or drinking at the bar.

It made him angry. He might not be the best Mayor in the world, but his people knew where they stood, and what they were responsible for. Everyone in Goodneighbor took a turn on the walls, in the streets. Only the elderly or helpless were spared from guard duty. She needed to tell them to start taking care of themselves. She wasn’t there to provide their sole security.

 _Maybe it’s a good thing I’m here_ , he thought to himself. _She needs backbone to stand up to these freeloaders. I got lots of that_.

He wandered around the place, looking at what she’d done with the old houses and the central warehouse where she’d put up shops and workbenches. Aside from the fact that everyone loafed around, it was a good place. She finished up talking with the settlers and came back to his side, smiling. His stomach did flip flops and he felt like his heart missed a beat or two. What he wouldn’t give to have her look at him like that every damned day.

“Onwards?”

“Lead on, Sunshine.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ah, chem fueled revelations. Poor Hancock. If only he knew what was in store for him. Nora’s getting tired of his slow approach. What does a Vaultsicle need to do to get some action? Tune in next time to see what she has up her sleeve. *ahem*
> 
> As always feedback is appreciated, and thanks again for all the comments and kudos. I squee over each one.


	5. Sparks

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which honesty wins the heart of fair lady.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> She smoothed a hand on his arm, tentatively but still firm. Her fingers wrapped partway around his arm. Her mouth had made a little oh and her eyes had sparkles in them he’d never seen before. He held himself very still under her touch. It was that or touch her in return. And if he started, he’d never stop. Most people weren’t interested in touching him in anything but a carnal way. And even that tended to be the barest minimum. This…this was mesmerizing.
> 
> “Wiseman answered a lot of my questions about ghouls,” she said softly. “But I never had the guts to ask if I could feel their skin. It seemed…I dunno, too personal. I was a real mess then, my head wasn’t on quite straight.” She smirked as she watched her own fingers trace the ripples and bumps of his arm. “I’m still a real mess, I think.”
> 
> “Not to me.”

It was a quick walk from Sunshine Tidings to the edge of Walden Pond, and he stood by delightfully entranced as she doubled over laughing at the tiny one room shack that had been home to a famous author. It still sat, perfectly preserved, untouched by time or the war in a grove of overgrown and mostly dead trees.

“You’re kidding me, right?” she snorted, hands on her knees. “I mean, this was here in my time. How is it still standing?”

“Wasn’t Thoreau some kind of isolationist?” Hancock said into her sporadic outbursts of giggles.

“Yeah, he was.” She finally stopped and wiped her eyes. “Oh, man, that just tickled me, sorry.”

“Nah, I like to see you laugh. You should do it more.”

Her voice was solemn when she spoke. “I don’t have much to laugh at these days.”

“I guess not. Glad this worked for ya, if that means anything.”

“Thanks, Hancock.”

“No problem.” He stepped into the shack and stood in the middle. “He really lived here? Must not have been claustrophobic.”

“Yeah. He believed that possessions made us weak, that reliance upon technology and comfort would be the downfall of mankind. Turns out, he wasn’t wrong. Wonder what he’d think of the world now.” She looked around and he tried to see the world through her eyes. It was bleak and empty, torn and broken. But fighting. The leaves were budding on trees and the undergrowth was turning green with scrub and grass.

“What do you think of it?”

“I think it’s full of hope. Murderous hope much of the time, but hope just the same.” She glanced around, and her eyes fell on a structure up a hill. “I came here once when I was a kid, with my school. There was a gift shop. I think that’s it. Wanna see if there’s anything left to scav?”

“Sure.” They walked up, cautiously because nothing was what it seemed in the Commonwealth, and were rewarded with a clapping monkey trap that Nora swiftly shot the head off of with her 10mm.

“I hate those things,” she muttered. “They never lead to anything good. Plus they’re creepy as fuck.”

She found a couple of homemade bombs that chilled Hancock’s blood until she disarmed them. There didn’t seem to be much of anything left in the little gift shop, just some empty cans and old toys that weren’t worth anything to anyone. But nailed to the basement door was a note and Nora’s eyes narrowed in thought as she read it.

“Raiders have been using this as a base. Explains why it was booby-trapped,” she said. There was a gleam in them when she turned to him. “Let’s get’em.”

“You sure hate raiders, don’cha, Vaultsicle?”

“Hey, they make my life harder. I wipe’em out any chance I get.”

“I wasn’t complaining. I like taking out the bad guys with you. So, how you want to do this? Pick the lock or find their entrance and sneak in?”

“This says the entrance is in the pond. Sewers, I imagine. Probably a safer bet, though. If we make too much noise, they won’t suspect we aren’t other raiders till we’re on top of them.”

He checked the barrels of his shotgun to make sure it was still loaded and grinned at her. “After you.”

They snuck through the sewer tunnel, moving carefully through the shin deep gunk and water and listening to the raiders talk as they got closer. She was sneaky, he noticed, her footsteps light and her form hiding in the shadows. He shouldn’t have been surprised, he told himself. She was so tiny she could probably sneak up on a deathclaw without it knowing.

But these raiders knew their territory well and the fight got messy. He was glad of her armor more than once as shots bounced off her chest plate. He took a glancing blow himself on the upper part of his arm, but it wasn’t bad. With his red frockcoat on, she probably didn’t even notice he was bleeding. It hurt a bit, but nothing his adrenaline couldn’t handle. Or some Med-X. Once they finally managed to take down the tough sons of bitches, Nora went about the cave, looting and pillaging. She never stopped.

“Find anything useful?”

“If you think a pipe wrench is a useful weapon,” she replied, brandishing her find. It clunked in her hands.

“Could be, in the right circumstances.”

“I guess. I prefer not to get that close to my target, thanks.”

“KLEO would buy it from you,” he offered.

“You think so?”

“She likes novelties,” he said with a grin. Nora grinned back and it turned saucy.

“You just want me to come back to Goodneighbor with you.”

“I wouldn’t say no.” She tucked the wrench in her pack instead of answering, but he didn’t think it was because she didn’t want to go back to Goodneighbor. If anything, the fact that she kept the otherwise useless to her weapon was because she thought she would.

 _Hope springs eternal_ …

***

Back on the surface she eyed the pond speculatively. “Think there’s any mirelurks around here?”

“No, it’s too small. Why?”

“I feel gross. I want a bath.” She was covered in blood and goop from the sewers, so he couldn’t really blame her for that one. But still, the water in the pond was not much better.

“In that? You’d be one radded up Vaultsicle.”

“I’ve got Rad-X.” She shook the bottle at him. It looked about half empty. At least she was vigilant about taking it, he thought. Lot of folks just didn’t care if they ended up looking like Brahmin jerky. Or worse. “Hey, you’re bleeding.”

Shit, she’d noticed. “Yeah, I guess I got caught. Don’t worry, it’s already healing up.”

“How?”

“Ghoul,” he reminded her. He’d cracked open a carton of dirty water as soon as they’d come back out and he now waggled it at her. “Better than a stimpak.”

“You sure you’re all right?”

“I’m fine, Sunshine. I’m tougher than I look.”

“Hmm. I’ve noticed.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” But he was grinning.

“I’m not used to you taking a hit.”

“It happens,” he shrugged. The sudden image of her being shot made him freeze. Stimpaks could repair a fair amount of damage, and could keep a person from bleeding out and dying, but they weren’t an all-purpose cure. The idea of her bleeding was…gut wrenching. Better he take the hits and she stayed safe. It’s why he didn’t mind being the one who rushed in heedless of the danger, although she liked doing that too on occasion. She must have seen his thoughts written on his face.

“Better you than me, huh?”

“Something like that.”

“I knew it. I’m not made of glass, you know.” She stepped over to him and curiously looked at his arm where there was a tear in his coat sleeve and she could see his gnarled skin through it. “Can I see?”

She sounded unsure of herself, as if she expected him to say no. “All right.”

He stripped off the frockcoat and his shirt so she had a clear view of his upper arm. The crumpled skin was pocked with little tears, like the tears in the fabric of his coat, but even as she watched they grew smaller until the skin sealed over them and they became just another mark in the scarring of his flesh. A breeze picked up around them and while she got goosebumps on her bare arms, he didn’t.

“Fascinating,” she murmured, getting closer. Her fingers hovered over his arm like she wanted to touch it. He didn’t know what he would do if s she actually laid her smooth hand on him. It would be worth it to find out, though. “Can I…”

“Go ahead, Sunshine, I ain’t gonna stop you from touchin’ me.” He knew his voice was suggestive, but she was so distracted by his healing ability she paid it no mind. Her fingers descended on his skin and he sucked in a breath. She was cool and gentle and he thought he might just…well, he didn’t know what he wanted to do. Throw her to the ground maybe. Fuck her senseless and get it out of his system. Although he was positive once would not be enough. _All or nothing_. He wanted all.

“You’re so warm,” she said softly.

“No way to let it out. The pores are all pretty much gone. Ghouls can’t sweat much, so yeah, we tend to run warm. And then there’s the rads.”

She nodded absently. “It’s…I thought it would be…hard. Like callouses. But it’s not. It’s more like leather.”

“It is in some places.” _Hard in others_ , he thought, keeping a tight mental grip on himself. He couldn’t help it any more than she could help being curious.

She smoothed a hand on his arm, tentatively but still firm. Her fingers wrapped partway around his arm. Her mouth had made a little oh and her eyes had sparkles in them he’d never seen before. He held himself very still under her touch. It was that or touch her in return. And if he started, he’d never stop. Most people weren’t interested in touching him in anything but a carnal way. And even that tended to be the barest minimum. This…this was mesmerizing.

“Wiseman answered a lot of my questions about ghouls,” she said softly. “But I never had the guts to ask if I could feel their skin. It seemed…I dunno, too personal. I was a real mess then, my head wasn’t on quite straight.” She smirked as she watched her own fingers trace the ripples and bumps of his arm. “I’m still a real mess, I think.”

“Not to me,” he said, trying his damnedest not to shiver under her touch. All thoughts of mindlessly wrestling her to the ground drained away like sand. It was intimate in a way he’d never known since he’d turned. Maybe he’d never known anything like this in his life. He hadn’t known how much he missed just being touched until her skin made contact with his. Even with his nerve endings half dead he could feel her like a brand.

Her eyes were on his now and he met them bravely. He could see so much in them. Despair, terror, need. Loneliness. “You’re doing the best you can,” he said. “The Commonwealth drains out the life of even those who were born in it. You’ve done a damned good job of surviving, Nora, without losing the spark that keeps you alive.”

“You make me sound like a hero,” she whispered, looking away for a moment. When she looked back, he could see himself reflected in her eyes, his own flat and obsidian standing out like black holes.

“You are one.”

“No. Just…desperate to make sense of it all. Just trying to get from one day to the next.” She paused, still stroking his skin. “I’ve never felt anything like it,” she said, her voice full of innocent wonder. But she wasn’t looking at his arm, she was focused on his face. “Hey, what color were your eyes…before?”

“They were brown.” They were so close that all he had to do was tip his head and he would be kissing her. She seemed to sense it too, and her pupils dilated with…desire? She took a sudden step back and let him go.

“I’m sorry,” she said, reining herself in.

“For what?”

“Well, I’m sure it’s not every day someone gets right in your face and asks questions like that.”

“I don’t mind. Ask me anything you want.” He sounded hoarse. If he’d thought they had tread on shifting ground before, it was nothing compared to this.

“Do you miss it?”

“Being human? Sometimes. Mostly no.” She seemed to be pondering this, and looked like she wanted to ask more, but she stepped back further. Her expression changed. It wasn’t disgust, not in the slightest. More like…well contemplative. Almost decisive.

“Well, thank you, Hancock. That was surely one of the most interesting things I’ve ever seen. Now, I’m gonna take that bath.”

As he was musing over her sudden flippant change, she dropped her pack and started stripping down right there in the sunlight. He knew he should look away, but he couldn’t. Her skin was so flawless and white, so clean to his eyes already. She’d braided her hair earlier, but now she pulled it out, shaking it loose. Armor, jeans, flannel, tee, all dropped to the ground and he just stood there, staring. Tank top, underwear, Pip-Boy. She was completely naked as she popped a Rad-X and walked into the water. He thought he was going to lose it right there in his pants. After everything she’d just put him through, it was a shock that he didn’t.

She swam out into the center and dove under, her hair streaming like a fan. When she surfaced it was slicked back from her face, making her appear much younger. Like a girl. Like innocence itself. “Care to join me?” she called from the center of the pond.

Rooted to the spot he could only shake his head and do his best to sound normal. “Heh, I’m more of a vodka man myself. Besides, someone should keep an eye out.”

She pouted but nodded. “I guess you’re right.” She dove back under the water and splashed around like a child.

“Jesus Christ, what am I doing? She’s gonna kill me here,” he muttered, knowing she couldn’t hear over the noise she was making. His pretense of keeping watch was tossed aside as they both knew he was only watching her. His field of vision had narrowed to the bright pinpoint that was her hair in the sun, her form in the water. He had never seen anything so beguiling. So perfect. He’d give anything to be able to touch, to savor, to have. _All or nothing_ , he reminded himself. All was looking better every moment.

“Hey, Hancock,” she called, and her voice slid over him until he shivered. It always did that to him. Always.

“Hmm?” he just managed.

“I need my soap.” She pointed to the edge of the water. “It’s in my pack. There’s a tin on top.”

He managed to walk to her pack without looking like he was in physical pain from his erection and found her soap. Then he decided to torture himself because he was a masochist and held it out of her reach unless she came out of the water. “Come and get it,” he said.

He honestly didn’t think she would, but he was wrong. She swam to the shallows, then stood up and sauntered up the pebbles to grab it from his hand. Her face bore a determined expression, mixed with something decidedly daring. She knew precisely what he was doing, and had responded in kind, the way she always did. This was merely a new level of enticement. He wasn’t sure how much more he could resist, and it appeared she didn’t want him to. Her wet skin was cool and smooth, small breasts pert and nipples hard, and he simply could not have looked away if a bomb went off behind him. Well, he certainly had only himself to blame for it. She stretched up, so close he could feel her brush against him and she kissed his cheek.

“Thanks.” She went back into the water and washed.

And he nearly got out his shotgun and shot himself in the head for being an idiot for not joining her when he had the chance. The red was natural, his dazed brain had noticed. He was so totally blindsided by her mercurial changes he didn’t think he could speak. He could barely form thoughts. His cheek burned from her quick touch and he only barely kept his hand from covering it, holding it in.

_She’s offerin’ something here. Don’t fuck it up._

_But I’m nothing but a fuck up. Doesn’t matter how much I want her, how much I love her. She deserves better_.

When she was done with her wash, he watched her come out of the pond again, the water sluicing off her curves and his brain just about short circuited. With every ounce of willpower he had left, he spun on his heel and didn’t look at her anymore. He heard her tuck the soap back into its tin and wrap herself in a towel she’d scavenged from somewhere and somehow washed. Probably wasn’t that difficult, Abraxo was around all over the place. He heard other rustlings and zipping of pockets on the pack and when she came back into his line of sight, she had wrapped the towel around her hair and was wearing a new tank top and panties. It was better than her walking around naked, but not by much. Her cold nipples stood out plainly against the material, and it was almost more alluring than seeing them bare. Still, he got a grip on himself and forced out the words.

“That’s a good look for you.”

“Aren’t you sweet?”

“No, no I’m not. Put on some clothes before I jump you.” She cocked her toweled head at him and winked. At him. Fuck.

 _She is not bluffing, John_.

“Promises, promises,” she said under her breath. He balled up his fists to keep himself from reaching out and touching her. It seemed she was expecting him to, that she wanted him to. And, oh, how he wanted to oblige her. He actually moved toward her, his clenched hands spasmodically releasing so he could reach…

 _Have some decency_ , his brain screamed at him. _You need to tell her things_.

“I grew up in Diamond City,” he said suddenly. He had no idea where the words came from, but he went with it and kept talking. “McDonough and I are brothers. We grew up in one of those shacks on the grass. Guy was a typical big brother, always pushin’ me around, that sort of shit. We had a pretty decent childhood, I always thought. Guy wanted to break into the Upper Stands and decided politics was the way to go. I was all right with that, but when he decided to run on a ticket of kicking out the ghouls I had to leave. ‘Mankind for McDonough’ he called it,” he sneered and the anger made it easier to control himself. Made it easier to keep talking. “I mean, not really, I wasn’t a ghoul yet, but I couldn’t stay. I couldn’t live with that asshole any longer. Our mother was gone, and our father was useless. And I was just a chemhead with no power of his own.”

“Where did you go?” She was quiet and still below him, the rustling at his feet had stopped.

“I wandered for a while. Ended up in Goodneighbor. I’d been going there for years to get decent chems. Tried to get some of the evicted to come with me, but like I said, it’s not a place for families. They were turned out into the wasteland to fend for themselves. And he won the election by a landslide.”

“He left them for dead,” she spat and he heard the anger in her voice, the sympathy.

“Too many, but not all of them. Wiseman took many of them in. Found them safe places to live, started up the Slog. I got loaded a lot, trying to forget the look on Guy’s face when he won. He wasn’t the same man anymore.” He paused for breath; remembering this part was hard. Saying the words out loud was harder still.

“I eventually ended up on the wrong side of a fight,” he went on finally. “Goodneighbor’s leader then was a bastard named Vic. He was…well, he was more of a monster than I could ever be. Used to take pot shots at the drifters, killed’em for fun. Anyone who tried to stand up to him got a bullet if they were lucky. One night there was a drifter who tried to stand up for himself, I don’t even remember what he said, and they cracked him open like a can of cram on the pavement. Blood and brains everywhere. And I just stood there and did nothing. Afterwards, I got so high I blacked out in the State House. When I woke up I was in front of some case where this fine outfit was displayed. I might have still been high, but it was calling my name and telling me to put an end to it. Enough was enough. I left John McDonough behind and became Hancock that day.”

“Then what did you do?” Nora asked, softly. He looked down at her. She knelt at her pack, still only partially dressed, scrubbing her hair dry with the towel. But listening intently to every word.

“I made friends with KLEO, gathered up a crew and we fucking killed them all. We strung Vic up on his own balcony and threw him off it. Everyone in the streets could see him swinging and I said the words that Goodneighbor has lived by ever since. ‘Of the people, for the people’. Heh, my inaugural address.”

She was quiet for a moment, then she stood and before he knew what she was up to she wrapped her arms around him. Her water chilled length was against him and he realized he’d been so caught up in what she was doing and what he’d been saying that he’d forgotten he was shirtless. He shivered involuntarily. When she spoke he shuddered right down to his bones. “You did what was right. You did what you needed to survive. You kept your own spark.”

There was absolution in her words, absolution he never knew he’d been craving. He let his arms come around her and held her tight, folding her into his warmth. It might be early May, but it was still a bit chilly in the open air. At least for her after swimming in the pond. And he felt like he’d earned a taste after all that.

“Yes,” he said. She fit right under his chin when she was barefoot. He could feel her ribs against his hands as she breathed and it was a fine feeling, even if she was still too thin. She tipped her head back and looked at him, not two inches from his face. She was totally unafraid of him, of how he looked, of how he felt under her hands. He knew there was no going back. He didn’t want to go back. He already knew he loved her. Now it was just a matter of showing it. _All or nothing_. “Now you know why a ghoul junkie like me was eager to go around with you. You are everything I could never be, perfect, strong, willing to fight for what’s right. And there’s so much that I want…but I know I can’t…I don’t deserve…”

“John?” she interrupted.

“What,” he whispered, so close to her he could feel her breath on him, her palms flat on his chest. She’d called him by name. There was a smile in her eyes. The despair was gone, replaced by heat.

“Thank you for telling me.” And she pressed her lips against his.

He was so stunned that for a moment he didn’t react. But she tasted sweet and clean and his hands lifted from her back to settle on her scalp of their own volition, her wet hair flowing over his fingers like water itself. She snaked her arms around his neck and held on to him tightly, and her mouth opened under his, her tongue meeting him halfway. She had to know what she did to him, she had to feel it against her nearly bare belly. But she didn’t stop, didn’t shy away. She pressed herself closer still, into his radiant heat. She sighed into his mouth like she’d been waiting for too long to give in, like she’d wanted it as much as he had.

He didn’t know how long they stood there, kissing like the world had just ended. Or begun. He wasn’t sure which. He was sure he didn’t care.

When she finally pulled away she gazed at him steadily. Her fingers traced what was left of his lips, shrunken and pulled tight against his teeth. She smiled. “That was…better than I thought it would be.”

“You been thinking about how it would be?” he choked out, just barely raising a nonexistent eyebrow in surprise.

“Um…well, yeah…” she admitted. It was endearing how after she initiated their kiss that she was suddenly shy. He leaned in and kissed her again, gentle and sweet. The tempest inside him cooled to something less rampant. It became…sustained. _I can try all_ , he thought. _I can try. I want to_.

“I’m glad I wasn’t the only one who wanted to…act.” She grinned impishly and he ran his hands back down her spine experimentally, just because she let him. She shivered under his touch. He wanted to laugh, to howl.

“We need to get a move on if we’re going to be near a bed any time soon,” she said breathlessly, anticipation thrumming through her until he could almost feel it like a tangible thing. Then she sighed teasingly. “Put your shirt back on and let’s get going.”

“Are you sure about this?”

She kissed him again, quick and nipping. “I have never been so sure about anything.”

Then she danced out of his arms with a laugh. They both dressed quickly, packed up her things and she slung her pack on her shoulders. Her fingers found their way into his, lacing them up tightly as they headed northwards toward Concord. She didn’t let go.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Affinity speeches are bit too stilted for my taste. I feel like this was more conversational and poignant, leading up to some big reveals about Hancock’s inner soul that happen later. I feel like his devil may care attitude is a total cover for some serious insecurities, and Nora sees right through him, and is unafraid of what she finds. Also, the whole touching part was completely unplanned, but I went with it and I love it. 
> 
> Feedback is, as always, appreciated. I know they seem to be jumping right in to the deep end, but hey, that’s the way love goes sometimes, right?


	6. Hail Mary, Full of Grace

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Hancock must face a very real fear.
> 
>  
> 
> *Warning* Some gruesome imagery ahead.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> “She needs a clean top,” Hancock said as he finally stepped away from her prone body. He turned to look at Garvey, his face carefully neutral. The high was long gone, and the adrenaline was starting to wear off too. He felt like he was coated in lead.
> 
> “You just saved her life, Mayor Hancock,” Garvey said.
> 
> “I’m aware of it. Clean shirt?”

They came up over a hill and into one of the settlements Nora had built, Abernathy Farm. Hancock saw shacks she’d made from scrap metal and wood, generators cobbled together with copper and bits of steel and glass. There were even working lights and a massive water pump. Long rows of tatoes grew before a central power station pylon, and behind that she pointed out where melons grew in abundance. A penned Brahmin lowed at them as they passed through, one head munching contentedly in a trough while the other watched them with round eyes. A young woman was milking the various udders for the thin milk. Away from the farm he saw a bull Brahmin penned off by himself. The inhabitants called greetings out to Nora, looking sideways at him holding her hand. But they didn’t seem upset, just surprised to see her in his company. He thought about it and decided that the last time they saw her she was probably still traveling with MacCready.

They made a quick stop at the Red Rocket Truck Stop on the road after that. Two scraggly little tato vines were strung up against the wall in the sun, and there was junk all around in myriad stages of being recycled, while a power armor station inside held the frame and half-finished pieces of her latest power armor project.

“I keep it here so when I want to get away to work on it, I can be left in peace,” she explained when she saw him looking at it.

“It’s gonna be great when it’s finished.” The suit was a dull, gunmetal gray, but it was obvious she was painting it. Green, it looked like. “T-51?”

“T-60. I scavved it off a dead soldier, I think. It was embossed with some symbol, sort of like a circle with gears in it? Took forever to get all the pieces here. They’re heavy.”

“Huh, that would be Brotherhood of Steel,” he said, looking at her from under his hat brim. “Where’d you find Brotherhood of Steel power armor here in the Commonwealth? Mac said they stayed mostly in the Capital Wasteland.”

“Who are they?”

“They’re…well, they’re a bunch of people who think technology should be hoarded, by themselves of course, and not exploited to make the world a better place. Soldiers. Bigots. They hate all ghouls, super mutants and synths alike. I didn’t know they were here.”

“I’d never seen anything else like it in my travels, but I knew I wanted to have it. I’ve been making this one do a whole bunch of stuff. The legs are gonna be stronger so I can jump from the tops of buildings and carry more stuff, and the torso bit sends out electric shocks when it’s powered up. I’m not sure what I want to do with the helmet part. There’s a lot of fine wiring in there that I’m not too sure I know how to fiddle with.”

“Damn, woman, you’re gonna be a menace in it.” He said it with awe and she looked proud of herself. “Watch out, Commonwealth, here comes the General of the Minutemen.”

“I have a lot of work to do on it still.”

“I didn’t know _you_ were so handy.” A flirty leer came over his face as he used her own words on her.

“ _You_ didn’t ask,” she retorted.

“I’ll remember to.” She laughed and his gut turned to mush. He would never tire of hearing that laugh. He put an arm around her and pulled her close and she leaned into him, her eyes still dancing.

“C’mon, Sanctuary’s just over the…” The sharp report of gunfire sounded in the quiet afternoon air and she turned her head towards her home, sudden fear replacing the look on her face. “Hancock, time to go!”

She took off running, pulling her 10mm from her pack, loading it as she ran. He had no choice but to follow, his shotgun sliding into his hands. Up the road and across a rickety wooden bridge over a rushing stream, he saw houses. It had once been a very picturesque little neighborhood, but the years had not been kind. At least two of the houses were in the later stages of falling down completely, while others had only partial roofs or no windows or doors. It was obvious people were working on them though, tools and building materials, many of which he recognized as being recycled from junk, were lying around everywhere.

“Fucking raiders,” he heard Nora comment as she ran. She took a knee as soon as she saw them and started shooting, her aim at its usual proficiency. The raiders began to turn towards her, ignoring the defending settlers and a spray of bullets and clouds of dust rose up where she’d been. But she’d already rolled to a new position. He backed her up, his double barrels plowing into heads and torsos and limbs, impacting with sprays of blood and cries of pain.

This wasn’t their usual style. He was never the one picking off the stragglers while she ran in headlong. But this was an attack on her home settlement and she wasn’t going to wait to take a better position. She just wanted to slaughter them all. He hadn’t seen this side of her before, fierce and heedless. She hadn’t put her armor on over her flannel and jeans after her impromptu bath. Any stray shot could kill her.

He lost sight of her in the chaos of the fight. He wanted to shout her name, but didn’t think she would hear him anyway. It was madness, glorious madness, for all of five minutes before the raiders decided to back down and retreat rather than lose every member of the party. They left their dead behind. The settlers were following them, now. From where he was in the street he saw Nora again, her pistol still pumping shot after shot in the direction of the fleeing raiders. Many of them went wide, but she didn’t seem to care. The battle was almost over. But one who had been wounded and was laying in the dirt raised himself up on an elbow, taking shaky aim. Hancock shouted, but it was too late. Nora caught the shot in her right side, a wide spray from an automatic pipe rifle that seemed to go on forever. She was peppered with little .38’s and stumbled.

“Nora!” Hancock cried, abandoning his shotgun and taking off towards her at a dead run. On his way he stomped on the dying raider’s face, breaking his nose and probably driving it into his brain. The raider gurgled and writhed on the ground. He reached her side. “Jesus, fuck…Nora…”

“Did we get’em…all…?” she asked, her breath hitching. No blood on her lips, he noticed, that was good. But there was a lot of blood everywhere else, and it was pouring out of her at an alarming rate.

“Fuck, fuck…shit…”

_No, not like this…_

“Han…cock…did we…?”

“Yes, goddammit, you got them all. Tell me there’s a medic in this town.” She nodded her head up the road, around the bend of a cul de sac where he could just make out a red pharmacy sign hanging over a shack built of weathered slabs of wood. The figure standing there looked too old to remove what could be as many as ten small bullets from her body. Hancock grabbed the shirt off some dead guy’s chest, literally tearing it to pieces and wrapped her tiny waist in it, staunching the bleeding as much as he could. Then he lifted her into his arms and carried her, running towards the center of the settlement. He was right, he could run with her and never lose his breath, unless of course he couldn’t breathe at all because she was bleeding out in his arms.

The settlers were returning and saw him. He saw someone who could only be Preston Garvey sprinting to catch up to him. “She got hit,” he shouted at the dark skinned man. “Where’s her house?”

“That one,” Garvey said, pointing out one with an orange door and a sturdy doghouse in the front yard. “I’ll get the doc.”

“Don’t bother, I’ll do it myself.”

“You?” Garvey seemed incredulous, but Hancock didn’t stop to argue or explain. Ghouls _were_ pretty indestructible, but that only meant he’d pulled plenty of bullets out of his own hide. Not to mention, he knew what chems he had on him and their quality. He was not going to stand by and watch some hick medic he didn’t know from a hole in the ground touch his Vaultsicle.

The door slammed open after a swift kick from his boot and he hurried her in, looking for her bedroom. End of the hall, on the left. Her eyes had rolled back in her head. “Stay with me, Sunshine. Just stay with me.”

He laid her down and grabbed a stimpak and a Med-X, jamming them both directly into her abdomen. Even before he had his frock coat off he saw the bleeding slow, then stop entirely. It wasn’t enough to reverse the damage but she wasn’t in as much danger now. She’d still lost a lot of blood, and the bullets still had to come out. He tugged her shirt away carefully, slicing it in places where it stuck to her bloodied skin with his knife and noticed from the corner of his eye that Garvey and a few others had come in.

“I need clean hot water, vodka, clean cloths if she has any, a sewing kit and some scissors,” he barked. “Tweezers if she’s got’em.”

“Right away,” a young voice said and one face disappeared from the growing crowd.

“Garvey, get these people out of here.”

“You heard him, give him room.” Garvey stayed behind, however. “What can I do?”

“Find me some Jet. I’m gonna need it.”

“Jet?” The Minuteman sounded disapproving.

“Just fucking find it!” He pulled the last bits of cloth away from Nora’s body and saw five small punctures in her fine white skin. “Jesus…” he breathed. Each by itself wouldn’t have been life threatening, but combined they could kill her. They had to come out and fast. “Garvey!”

“Here…Mayor.” A small red inhaler was pressed into his hand and he took it shaking it firmly to get it ready. He saw the kid return with the hot water and things and he reached out for them even before the kid was fully in the room.

“I couldn’t find tweezers,” the kid said. Hancock nodded grimly. The hard way then. He dropped his knife in the water, then poured the vodka over it, counting to ten before wiping it dry with a towel. He hated to cut her up, but it had to be done. He should have popped a Mentats while he was at it, he thought, but it was too late now. He hit the Jet hard, filling his lungs with it and the world slowed to a crawl.

Three were not that far under her skin, and those were easy. He was able to pry them out with the tip of his knife, popping them like seeds from a melon without having to open the wounds further to reach. The last two were buried deep, one near a rib and one nearly in her abdominal cavity. They left the marks of their entry across her body, like falling stars. He hit the Jet again and followed the trails, slicing into her skin to chase out the bullets with his knife. He tried not to think about the horror of flaying her open to get the one in her gut. _He_ could kill her if he wasn’t careful.

Clink. Clink.

The last two dropped into a bowl Garvey held out for him. He grabbed another stimpak and jabbed it into her belly, willing it to work quickly. She’d started to bleed again as soon as he’d cut her, but there was no other way. For long seconds he watched, then she took a breath. There was no gurgle in it, and no smell of intestines from the still open wounds. The muscle tissue he’d exposed started to knit back together. It had worked.

He sat back on his knees, feeling the high dissipate into languor, then into something like shock as his adrenaline took over. He wasn’t finished, though. He knew that. He cleaned up his hands as best he could, and threaded a needle with fine thread to stitch her up. Somehow he kept steady as he sewed tiny loops into her skin, tying off each one and snipping it with the scissors.

She groaned. “Han…cock …?”

“Hey, Sunshine, I’m almost done.”

“Safe…?”

“Always, love. Always.”

“Hurts…” He grabbed another Med-X between stitches and pumped her full of it. She sighed and was basically unconscious again. Good, he couldn’t afford to be distracted, not even by her. When he was finished, he pulled the tatters of her shirt and tank top off her shoulders gently so he could wrap her belly in the clean strips finally brought to him by the medic. He found another mark on her back as he pulled off her shirt, but it was just a graze, barely more than a long scratch that had bled but wasn’t serious. The blood had dried her shirt to her skin. He swabbed it with a wet cloth to make it release and swaddled her waist in the bandages. Up close he saw the medic was actually a woman. She clasped his shoulder in support as he worked, then let him go and disappeared. Only Preston Garvey was still in the room.

“She needs a clean top,” Hancock said as he finally stepped away from her prone body. He turned to look at Garvey, his face carefully neutral. The high was long gone, and the adrenaline was starting to wear off too. He felt like he was coated in lead.

“You just saved her life, Mayor Hancock,” Garvey said.

“I’m aware of it. Clean shirt?”

Garvey went to a chest of drawers and pulled out a soft button down. Hancock slid her arms into it, supporting her body against his own, buttoning each button very carefully as the shakes set in. He tugged off her jeans and shifted her so he could pull down the covers, now hopelessly covered with her blood. He’d deal with that later. Right now she needed to get warm. Her lips were turning an unhealthy color. He pulled off his boots and his shirt and was unbuttoning off his pants when he heard Garvey.

“What the hell are you doing?”

“She needs to be kept warm, Garvey, she’s going into hypothermic shock. She lost too much blood. Ghouls are warm.”

“Ghouls are full of rads,” Garvey returned, with a fair amount of disdain.

“Only on the inside, cowboy, and I ain’t the one been bleedin’. Now, get out, unless you want to see the whole package.” He didn’t stop to see if the man left, but dropped his pants on the floor and slid into the bed with her, holding her as closely as he dared without causing her further hurt. In her semi-conscious state, she tried to roll towards him, murmuring, but he held her down flat. She settled for curling her hand under his chin, knuckles near his throat. “Stay with me, Sunshine,” he whispered before he fell into oblivion himself. He never even heard the outer door close.

***

A groan in his ear woke him. It was dark in the room with only moonlight filtering through the open window, and for a moment Hancock didn’t know where he was. He had crashed hard and his head was throbbing with hangover pain. Then it came flooding back to him. Nora…the raiders…the gun fight…the sight of her blood...

 _The visceral fear for the woman you love_. God, he wasn’t used to thinking of her that way yet. His heart thumped hard. _I could have lost her_.

“Hancock? Are you naked in bed with me?” she asked in a tired yet amused voice.

“Yes, in fact, I am. Keepin’ you from turning back into a Vaultsicle.”

“That’s…nice of…you…”

He pressed his withered lips to her temple and smiled, remembered anguish turning into something like triumph that he’d done it. He’d saved her. “It is, isn’t it?”

“Hancock…”

“Hmm?”

“Do you have a hard on?”

“Probably.”

She tried to laugh, but cut it short with a gasp and a groan when it hurt too much. He reached behind his shoulder to find his frockcoat and see if there was any Med-X left. He’d given her an awful lot of it in the time he’d known her, it seemed.

“Just checking,” she said with a sigh, the hand tucked up against his body stroking his chest with her knuckles. The Pip-Boy scraped against him, hard and sharp, but he wasn’t going to stop her if she wanted to touch him. He would never stop her. “You still enjoying the view?”

“It’s even better up close,” he whispered shakily.

“Liar, I must look terrible.”

“You’re beautiful.” His fingers closed on one final slim syringe of the painkiller and he held it up, debating. She opened her eyes again and saw it in the shadows.

“Not yet. I know it will get worse before it gets better. Save it for then.”

“By then, I’ll have more. Your medic should have it in stock, and if not, I’ll fly to Goodneighbor and back, just see if I don’t.”

“You’re…hilarious…you know that?”

“Only on my good days.”

“Was this a good day?” He thought about that. He felt like in many ways it was. Life changing, perhaps, but good. He'd confessed all his sins, and she’d still kissed him. He’d gotten to help her shoot the raiders she so detested and he’d saved her life. And now he was in her bed, with her in his arms. Maybe not the way they’d planned, but he wasn’t going to quibble.

“All in all,” he said finally. He prepped the Med-X.

“Later, I said,” she murmured.

“You need it now. Deal with any addiction when you can walk again. You got a chem station, right? I’ll just cook some up. Okay?”

She sighed in defeat. “Okay.” He pressed on her elbow until he felt the vein, slid the needle in and she sighed again, this time in relief from her pain. “We need to stop meeting like this,” she whispered before the drugging effect took her away again.

He smothered a chuckle so he didn’t shake her, thinking back to the first time he’d helped her recover from injury. “At least I don’t have to sleep on the sofa this time.” He tossed the empty syringe aside and set about unlatching the Pip-Boy from her wrist. “Unless you’re gonna kick me out.”

“No, I don’t want you to go anywhere.”

“Is that why you got yourself shot? So I’d get into bed with you? I thought that was the plan anyway. You only had to ask, ya know.” He massaged her wrist where the Pip-Boy had been. He knew it was just an excuse to touch her, but she made a pleased sound at the rasp of his skin on hers, so he kept doing it.

“Hancock?”

“What?”

“Could you get in bed with me, please?”

This time he couldn’t help but laugh. He tried to hold it in, but couldn’t and he shifted away from her so his mirth didn’t hurt her. She complained about losing his heat and he rolled closer, almost on top on her on her good side. “Oh, Sunshine, you’re somethin’ else. I can’t wait to make you come apart for me.”

“Mmm. That sounded like a promise.”

“I’ll keep it another time, all right? You need to rest now.” He smoothed her brow with his free hand, running his gnarled fingers through her hair the way he’d been wanting to, marveling at the texture. Her palm lay flat on his chest before he even felt her move, resting just over his heart.

“So…strong…”

“Only for you,” he whispered and gave in to his urge to kiss her. Light, nipping, sipping kisses that didn’t require any effort on her part other than to lay still and take what he gave. He framed her face with his hands, cupping her jaw. “You scared the shit outta me today.”

“I am what I am, Hancock.”

“You’re a fucking mess is what you are. That is not how we battle.”

“You loved it anyway,” she accused sleepily. She was drifting away on the chems and he really should let her. He knew that. But she seemed to be waiting for his rejoinder, because she knew he always had a comeback.

“You maniac with a pistol. Gotta admit, I don’t know how I feel about being the second best shot in this outfit, but I love watching you work.” _I love you_. She’d snared him good and proper. It was too soon to tell her that, but he could wait. She made an appreciative sound and settled back into sleep. He closed his eyes and drifted off with her still in his arms.

***

Bright sunlight was streaming into the room the next time he opened his eyes, but that was not what had awakened him. Nora had managed to turn on her side at some point and she was facing him. Her small hands were moving over his body, touching his skin everywhere she could reach. Her green eyes met his black ones.

“Hey, Hancock,” she whispered. Her fingers swept along the curve of his hip. He squirmed; it tickled. “Do you want me to stop?”

“No, Sunshine. I do not want you to ever…stop…” He lost his train of thought as the backs of her fingers brushed against his erection and skimmed up his abdomen. “Shit, woman.”

She smiled broadly. “That’s what you get for going commando.”

“Serves me right…” he sighed. He looked into her face as she learned his body by touch. Her eyes were closed now, brow furrowed with something like concentration, or maybe it was pain from her side. He couldn’t bring himself to care, because she was…wrapping her fingers…around… _Fuck_. “You’re gonna be the death of me.”

“I doubt it.” She sounded much better, a detached part of him noticed. She was still deathly pale but she was no longer cold, if her busy hand was anything to go by. She gripped him firmly, sliding her palm all along the length of him and he stifled a shout. “Tell me if you want me to stop,” she repeated, sounding a bit worried.

“Sunshine…why would I want you to stop?”

“I dunno. Maybe you’re not ready to jump in?”

“Nora, believe me…I would fuck you _senseless_ …if I thought you could…take it right now,” he panted into her hair. He couldn’t even look down himself at where her hand was stroking and smoothing. It would be all over. He’d dreamed of having her hands on him. He didn’t think he could take the reality for very long.

“Senseless, huh?”

“Till you passed out from coming,” he groaned as she hit a particularly sensitive spot.

“Sounds like fun,” she teased, sounding far more in control than he liked. Almost unaffected. While he puffed like a bellows and tried not to yelp like a dog.

“This is not how this was supposed to happen, ya know,” he said when he could get enough breath to form words.

“Tough shit, bad boy.” She leaned toward him and licked up the side of his neck with just the tip of her tongue. “You taste like leather.”

“I am leather.”

“Not everywhere.”

“N-no…not everywhere…” he stuttered. She was using her fingertips now, just lightly skimming his rock hard flesh. “Ahh…”

“Quietly now, I don’t have glass in my windows.”

“Fuck, Nora, I’m gonna…”

“I know,” she murmured, sounding pleased with herself. She picked up the pace. He crushed his mouth to hers as he came, growling down her throat. He was still kissing her long after she had let go of his cock, even after the shivers ran through him. When he finally pulled away from her it was only to rest his forehead against hers.

“What a mess you made,” she teased.

“You made that mess, Sunshine, that was all you.”

“Hmm.”

“You know I have to get even, right?”

“Ooh, I hope so.” She sounded gleeful.

“You’re quite a horny little wench, aren’cha?” His breath came raggedly as he fought to keep his movement steady and slow. She was in far too much pain for anything abrupt but he rolled forward carefully so she was on her back and he was above her. Her hands had roved over his back, learning each furrow and buckle on that side now that she had learned the front so well. He braced himself on his elbows, not laying his weight on her, but over her, his knees between her legs. Her hips twitched and her legs slid alongside his. He dipped his head back down to kiss her again, sliding his mouth from hers over her chin and down under her jawline. “Now it’s your turn to tell me when to stop,” he whispered. She nodded, then shook her head.

“Don’t stop,” she clarified in a small voice. Her eyes met his and they were so close he could see the flecks of gold in the green. “Don’t ever stop.”

“When you’re all healed up I’m gonna spread you so wide you’ll drip,” he whispered against her throat and she shuddered. “Then I’m gonna fuck you so hard you’ll think you’ve exploded.” He licked the side of her neck and she turned her head to let him. “Then...”

“Then…?”

“I’m gonna do it all again,” he promised. She hummed as he skimmed back up her neck to her mouth, smothering her moans with kisses. He could tell she wanted to arch up to meet his body, but couldn’t do it with her belly wrapped tight in cotton strips that didn’t give. Carefully he pulled her back onto her side, tugging her leg over his hips until she was more comfortable. Even as tiny as she was, he fit into her hips perfectly. His hand slipped down over her back and onto her butt, lifting her more into place without actually seating himself within her, because of course he was hard again already. It was a damned good thing she still had on underwear.

 _How about you remember all those stitches you put in her_ , he thought and almost drew back from her. The thought was sobering; they really shouldn't be doing this while she was in this condition.

“You know something?” she asked as he warred with himself. She traced her hand on his face, over his cheekbones and jaw, along the slope of his half nose.

“What?”

“I like your nose.” She poked it with the tip of her finger.

He would have laughed if he dared. Instead he arched a nonexistent brow and asked, “What nose?”

“Precisely. It’s nice to be kissed without another nose in the way.”

“I’ve never heard it put quite that way before.”

“You learn something every day.”

He went back to touching her, his fingers dipping low under her butt and he grinned at her sharp indrawn breath. _The skin on the back of her thighs is extra sensitive_ , he added to his mental file. “You do,” he agreed aloud.

Carefully, oh so carefully, he slid down until his face was more at her breast level. He lifted his hand away from her perfect little ass and began unbuttoning her shirt, slowly, until he could see her skin, flushed and warm. He pulled the shirt off her shoulder, molding his mouth to the breast he’d bared all at once, making her gasp. He slid his hand back under the covers, slipping just under the band of her underwear at her crotch, just a bit, just a little. Just enough to feel her wet and hot on his fingertips. He stroked along her heat without dipping into it, tormenting and light. She was so ready. Even with the amount of pain she must have been in.

“H-hancock…” He let go of her breast with a pop and looked into her eyes.

“Say my name,” he commanded.

“John…” she breathed, and he slid two fingers inside her, cupping her so the heel of his hand pressed against her pubic bone. She came almost immediately, shudders wracking her body. His fingers pressed against her walls, spreading her open under his touch. She whimpered and moaned, and he knew she wanted to cry out, but didn’t dare with people walking to and fro just outside.

He kissed her again, straining to reach as he was jackknifed into an awkward position in order to finger her and kiss her simultaneously. She moaned louder into his mouth and he wanted so very badly to push his cock into her and make her come around him. But reality intruded and she hissed with sudden sharp pain as she tried to arch her back into him. Slowly he withdrew his fingers, lingering on her slick flesh, soothing her as he moved away from her body so she could ease her discomfort.

“You need more Med-X,” he said. “Strenuous activity is not recommended while recovering from gunshots.”

“Probably not. It was worth it, though.” Her afterglow was something to behold, her eyes glistening and languid, her hair spread out on her pillow like a wave of fire, her face so relaxed she looked years younger. While she watched he licked his fingers clean and he saw her pupils dilate. “I want you to make me come again,” she whispered. “I want _you_.”

“Maybe later, if you do everything the good doctor tells you.”

“And who is the good doctor?” she asked, knowing grin playing on her lips.

“Me,” he growled, dipping into to kiss her one last time before he got out of the bed to find his pants.

“Where are you going?” she complained, as he stretched full length in the bright sunlight of her room. He knew he was well toned and muscular under his rough exterior, if a bit lean. Peering over his shoulder he could see her looking. _Only fair to let her see all I got_ , he thought. He sank to the edge of the bed, pulling on his pants but leaving off his shirt.

“Cook up some chems, and find you some food. You need to eat more, Nora. I mean it.”

“Yes, doctor. Anything you say.”

“Damn straight, Sunshine.” He gave her a mocking glare and saw the tangled sheets around her, still smeared with her blood. And other things that she shouldn’t be laying in; he was a ghoul after all. There were rads. First things first. “Now, this is gonna hurt, but I gotta move you.”

“Why?”

“The sheets are all bloody, in case you hadn’t noticed.”

She looked sheepish. “No, I hadn’t.”

“Well, you were distracted. You got a chair nearby I can put you in?”

“In the living room…” she trailed off. He scooped her up into his arms as gently as he could, but she could still barely stifle a groan of pain as the movement stretched her lacerated and stitched body. He knew she was probably really feeling it now that they weren’t otherwise occupied. He let her get her feet under her without letting her put any weight on them, then lowered her into the chair she’d pointed out. He pecked her forehead quickly and started to head back to the bedroom.

“Stay,” he ordered gently.

She leaned her head back and concentrated on just breathing. He watched her relax into the cushions of the chair before he went and stripped the bed. By the time he returned, the sheets bundled up in his arms, his shirt loosely thrown over his shoulders, she was asleep in the chair. He dumped his armload on the sofa and grabbed a blanket to cover her with, tucking her feet onto a handy ottoman. Then he went about finding where she kept her washing tub and Abraxo.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well that’s one way to end up in bed together. Hope it was worth the wait.


	7. Love and Other Complications

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Hancock gets domestic and confessions are made.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> “Woman, you will be my undoing.” It was comforting and natural to lay beside her, like they’d been doing it all their lives. She tucked her hands over his arm and he watched her fingers trace small patterns on his skin.
> 
> “I like this,” she said presently. “I’ve missed having someone share my space.”
> 
> “I’ve never had this,” he admitted. She swung her head over to look at him, her eyes wide and dewy. “I’ve never met anyone so willing to snuggle up to a ghoul.”
> 
> “Well, get used to it. I like to snuggle up to you. You’re so warm,” she said in a teasing tone.

Hancock was elbow deep in the tub of bloody sheets in Nora’s back yard when he saw Garvey coming towards him from the side, a shotgun slung low in his hands.

“I believe this is yours, Mayor,” the tall man said, holding it out.

“Thanks, Garvey. I wondered where I’d put that.” He continued scrubbing the sheets and watched as Garvey debated with himself about whether to say something more or not. Hancock sighed. Not really how he wanted to spend his time, but he knew they needed to have this conversation sooner rather than later. “Something on your mind, Preston?”

“How…where did you learn to do that?” Garvey gestured to the house, to the sleeping woman inside it.

“You don’t know much about me, do you?” Hancock replied. Garvey looked hesitant about answering and Hancock cracked a smile. “It’s all right. I know I got a reputation and I earned most of it. The rest is hearsay. But hey, I’m just like any other ghoul in the Commonwealth. Lonely. That means I read a lot, Garvey,” he snapped, since Garvey didn’t seem to comprehend what he was saying about the fact that ghouls were pretty much shunned by everyone else. There was plenty of folks who were tolerant of his kind, but that didn’t mean they had any understanding of what it was like to live like them.

“Where do you find the books?” Garvey settled on once his face had gone through several expressions, some of them interesting, all of them with accompanying questions.

“State House is full of’em. Tourism, cookbooks, histories on the Commonwealth, how life was lived during the 18th and 19th century, that sort of shit. There was a whole library in the cellars with the booze and the lockboxes. I guess they must have rotated them out when the State House was just a tourist trap. There was a box filled with old medical journals tucked away left over from some exhibit on Revolutionary era medicine. And I ain’t a stranger to doing for myself.”

“I think I may have misjudged you, Mayor Hancock.”

“No worries, it happens all the time.”

“I admit when I’m wrong,” Garvey insisted. Hancock realized he was trying to apologize and leaned back from the washtub to look up at him. He had never known that their hats were so similar. He wondered if there was a metaphor to be found there. For a certainty, he could tell there was a wealth of emotional attachment to the same woman, even if it took different forms.

“I appreciate that.” The moment passed and Hancock went back to the washing. Garvey chuckled. “What?”

“Never thought I’d live to see the Mayor of Goodneigbor washing sheets.”

“Don’t tell, I have a reputation to uphold.”

“Don’t worry, your secret is safe with me. Don’t know about the rest of town, but hey…you saved our General. I’d say you’re going to be pretty popular around here.”

“Not like I’m concerned with winning a popularity contest, but thanks.”

“She means a lot to us,” Garvey continued, watching the ghoul Mayor wringing the water from the sheets so he could check to see if they were as clean as were going to get.

“Means a lot to me too.”

“I can tell.” There was something wry and sardonic in Garvey’s tone and Hancock made a mental note to shutter her windows from now on. They may not have been as discreet as they could have been. He personally didn’t give a shit who knew what, but he knew she would. “Listen, you say I don’t know much about you, and maybe that’s true. I’m just concerned that you don’t know as much about her as you should.”

“Oh, I know about her son. And her husband.”

“He’s still up there, you know. In the Vault.” Hancock followed Garvey’s eyes where he was staring at a point not far from where they were, up over a hill, hidden by the trees. “She wanted to wait until spring before trying to dig a grave for him.”

“And now it’s here. She still wears his ring,” Hancock added. The glint of gold was an ever present reminder that she had a past and a history no one could ever truly know.

“All I ask is that you be worthy of her.”

“That is my aim,” Hancock said. Garvey nodded in acknowledgement.

“Then I’ve said what I needed to.” The tall, black man walked away and left Hancock to his washing. Neither of them knew Nora had been standing at the window, listening.

***

After hanging the sheets to dry on a line strung between two dead tree trunks, Hancock went back inside and found Nora hobbling around the living room, organizing and putting away all the things she’d gathered on her journeys. On the floor was a pile of miscellaneous junk he knew was slated to be scrapped for parts. Desk fans, old telephones, even some rusted out tin cans. She found a use for everything. Neatly laid out on the bar separating the living room from the kitchen he saw guns. Some would be disassembled for their parts, but some were good, and he knew she planned to keep them, either to use or for bartering.

“The hell you doing, Sunshine? I told you to stay.”

“I feel better,” she replied. She was drawn and pale from the pain and blood loss but she was moving around pretty good, if he had to admit it. “I needed to be doing something. The whole point of coming back here was to drop stuff off and check on the town.”

“I’m fairly certain the town will come to you, ya know,” he grinned, leaning against the doorjamb and watching her. He could move quick, and if she faltered he would be there before she fell. He also knew just how stubborn his Vaultsicle was about asking for help, so he didn’t offer any. She waved a hand at him.

“That’s not the point. I don’t get back here as often as I would like, and there’s things need doing.”

“I see some things that need doing.” Her head shot up at his underlying lustful tone and she mock frowned.

“Don’t tease.”

“Who’s teasing? You’re the one walking around in nothing but a button down shirt. I’m dyin’ over here.”

“And you’re the one with plastered wet shirt all over him. Wet tee shirt contest?” she asked sweetly. Too sweetly. He didn’t know what she meant by wet tee shirt contest, but he was a smart man and he figured he could guess.

“Laundry day,” he replied in kind. “I’d offer to take it off if it’s bothering you so much, but I wouldn’t want to be accused of teasing. Besides, I don’t have anything else to put on.” He watched her hobble from the room without speaking and a few moments later she hobbled back in, carrying a shirt that she threw at him.

“There,” she said.

“Don’t know if I should be hurt or not,” he muttered.

“You can wander around naked later, when I can appreciate it better,” she laughed. He took off his soaked shirt to replace it with the one she’d given him. She honestly sounded as if he wanted to see him walk around naked it all his ravaged glory, as if she didn’t find him at all repulsive. He would never get used to it. Strange little Vaultsicle. He hung his shirt on the back of a chair so it could dry. She came up to him and straightened the collar of the borrowed shirt, her hands lingering on him. He carefully held her, conscious of the bandages holding her upright. He pecked a kiss on the end of her nose. She lifted her head so her lips met his. She went limp in his arms, giving him more of her weight to support.

“You look tired,” he said when he pulled away.

“I am.”

“I was going to cook up more Med-X. I should go do that.”

“All right.”

“You gonna be okay in here?”

“Yeah.”

“Did you eat?”

“Huh? Nah, I’m not hungry.” He huffed under his breath. There had to be something to tempt her with to get her to eat better. He wondered if Mac would know. He had a farm he kept, when he wasn’t being a merc.

Hancock helped her get back to her chair and tucked her in, watching her drift off into a doze. He slipped quietly out the side door to go about his errands. It felt strange to be in another man’s clothes – disregarding the fact that his own had once been someone else’s – and he felt self-conscious as he went out to cook up some more Med-X. The chemistry station was set up against the wall of the house, in what used to be a driveway, but was now just a patio with some chairs around a table. Across the road, scattered sort of haphazardly around the power armor station, was an armorer’s anvil and a weapon’s bench, but she’d chosen to keep the chemistry station close at hand. It made sense, since she would need it to make grenades and things. The power armor station was empty now since her suit was back in Goodneighbor with KLEO for safekeeping. He took stock of the ingredients in the chem station and decided to cook up a whole bunch of things. He never knew what he was going to need.

Once he was done with that, he wandered through her town, noting where the shops were and the lively trade going on around him. He stopped at the bar and had a drink, and it was worse than what he got from Charlie. He’d have to ask Nora how she was getting supplied. He’d have to fix that if he was going to be spending time here. That thought made him stop right in the middle of lifting the glass to his lips. Was he planning to spend time here?

He took a good look around from the little table he was sitting at, enjoying the shade from the overhead umbrella. She’d built a thriving community here, but better yet, she was here. He’d said it before, he went where she did. It had sounded corny then, but now he realized he meant it. His mayoral vacation might last a bit longer than he’d planned. Maybe forever.

 _Yeah, I could see myself spending time here_ , he thought to himself. _Maybe if there was a little more privacy_. And he made a mental note to find out who could help put some glass into her empty window frames.

As he was pondering this, a man in sunglasses with a bald head approached him and sat down in the chair opposite him. “Do you have a Geiger counter?” the man asked.

It was an exceptionally strange question to ask a ghoul, but then he remembered something Dr. Amari had told him. “Mine’s in the shop,” he replied.

The man in the sunglasses grinned cheekily and held out a hand. “Deacon. I know who you are, Mayor Hancock.”

“Shit, does everyone in this far flung community know who I am?”

“Duh. You’re the Mayor of Goodneighbor, the one and only, dressed like some something from another century,” he waved his hands about in the air. “Word gets around, man.”

“How’s the reprogramming business?” Hancock asked. He hadn’t known Nora had any affiliation with the underground synth rescue group Deacon represented, but there was really no other way for her to know him.

“Busy, with your Vault girl’s help.” That confirmed it. Nora was in the Railroad, and not as a tourist, like he was, an ally without joining. No wonder she’d disappeared for so long, and the ‘traffic’ through the Memory Den had suddenly increased.

“She’s not my…”

“She is, Mayor Hancock. Trust me, she is all yours for the asking.”

Hancock leaned back in the chair, a springy kind of thing he found he was liking entirely too much. The thoughts going through his head of what he and Nora could do in a chair like this were riveting. He brought himself back to the present, and the present company, with an effort. “How do you know?”

“You’re all she talked about the last time I traveled with her.”

“And when was this?”

Deacon tipped his head to the side. “Couple weeks ago? A month maybe? I’ve known her a while now.”

“Funny, she’s never mentioned you.”

“She’s an agent. Are you surprised?”

“I am surprised you’re telling me about it. I thought you guys were all secretive and mysterious.”

“Oh, we are. But I’ve watched you with her, and I know you know what goes on in your town. It was time you knew more, if only to keep her, uh, breathing.”

“You’ve watched us together,” Hancock nearly growled.

Deacon threw up his hands in a pacifying way. “I get around. More than she knows. She’s a good, passionate person, and I think she can make some real changes to this wasteland of ours.”

“I won’t disagree.” He swirled his drink in his hand, wishing he had ice. Diamond City could make ice, but he wouldn’t stoop so low as to ask as long as he wasn’t welcome.

“They use super coolant in a generator box to lower the temperature,” Deacon said suddenly.

“What?”

“Diamond City. That’s how they make ice.”

“How…?”

“I’m a spy, remember? Part of my job is to read people like sign posts.”

“Then I’m gathering this ain’t a social call.”

“No, it’s not. I need to update our…superiors back at HQ. So, how is she really?”

“She’ll make it. Nothing too serious, just some .38 spray I had to dig out of her gut before it killed her.” Deacon seemed to appreciate his light sarcasm. “She needs better armor.”

“I can help with that. One of our agents back at HQ has these plans that Nora brought back from one of our field ops. Ballistic polymer weave. Add it to any cloth material and it becomes harder than geometry to penetrate, while remaining pliable and soft. Something about surface tension and force and dispersal of energy…I don’t understand all of it. I just know it works.”

“Interesting.”

“The military used to use it on their uniforms. Didn’t need to bulk up on separate armor pieces or give power armor to everyone in a three mile radius, which I would guess was pretty expensive.”

“She needs it, then. She flings herself headlong into every fucking fight regardless of the odds.”

“Don’t I know it? I walked plenty of miles with that woman.” There was rich admiration in Deacon’s voice for the Vaultsicle, and Hancock wondered if he was just the latest in a long line of men who had fallen for her harder than the atom bomb. And if she’d ever done anything about that string of lovelorn companions, or if he was the only one to know what she sounded like when she… “No worries on that score, my friend,” Deacon interrupted his thoughts. “There’s only ever been you.”

“That’s uncanny, and rude, Deacon,” Hancock said, but he said it lightly.

“I’m good at what I do.”

“Then I’ll thank you for keeping her alive when she wasn’t with me.”

“You’re welcome, man. Any time.” They sat in silence for a while and Hancock finished his drink with a grimace. God, that was awful stuff. “Tell her I was here, would you?” Deacon asked suddenly. Hancock guessed it was also a way he could bring up the conversation about the Railroad with her. “I need to head out and make my report.”

“I will.” He watched the elusive man stride away and in the crowd around the bar – it was now lunchtime – he disappeared completely. Seeing the crowd reminded him that he was supposed to find some food for Nora and he got up to get in line with the rest, caps jingling in his pocket.

He needn’t have bothered, he saw when he got back to the house. The countertop of the bar where once had been a pile a guns was now loaded with piles of food. Some of it he knew she shouldn’t eat and weeded those out. They wouldn’t be wasted; he needed to eat on occasion too. But some of it he knew he could probably coax past her lips if he dressed it up right.

Cooking for a woman. The last one he’d done that for was Fahr, and that was only because she had been too laid up to do it for herself. She’d never let him live it down, either, that he’d seen the inside of her personal kitchen and hadn’t ranted about the filth. Fahrenheit was the only other person who knew just how much of a neat freak he really was, dirty streets of Goodneighbor notwithstanding. Reputation and all.

Nora’s house was neat as a pin, he saw. Even though the walls were rusting out and the windows had broken glass in them, the inside was tidy and clean. Everything had a place. He wondered – then figured he knew – that this had been her house pre-war. He glanced down at the shirt he was wearing, and wondered if it had been her husband’s. It didn’t seem too likely, 200 years was a long time after all, but there had been something about the way her face looked when she threw it at him that make him think.

She wasn’t in the living room anymore, so he went to find her. She was sound asleep on her bed with her head on the pillow he’d used, right on the bare mattress. He curled up behind her, careful not to jostle her too much. She murmured and shifted closer to him in her sleep, then began to wake, feeling him there.

“Hey, Hancock,” she said presently.

“Hey, Sunshine.” He braced himself on his elbow and looked over her shoulder into her face, sleepy and relaxed. She didn’t seem to be in too much pain. “Deacon sent his love.” He watched as her eyes widened with shock.

“Shit,” she uttered, and he laughed.

“Been keeping secrets, I see.” His tone was light and airy, and he saw her relax again when she knew he wasn’t angry. He leaned in and kissed the side of her neck, liking the sound she made, the way she tilted her head so he could get better access. He wondered how long he would be able to stand keeping his hands off her. “How long?”

“A few months, more? Before I met you.”

“Is that the real reason you came to Goodneighbor?”

“Not really, although I…”

“I don’t need to know, Sunshine. I keep out of it. Better that way for me, and for them.”

“Okay.” She frowned a little. “There is something I need to tell you though. We think we’ve tracked down who took Shaun. Man named Kellogg. He was last seen in Diamond City. All the pieces fit.”

“What are you going to do next?”

“Nick is trying to find him for me, with Dogmeat.” She took a deep breath and held it. When she let it out, she spoke. “If he finds him, I’ll have to go. I don’t expect you to come with me. I know you have your own life, your own worries.”

“You’re my worry now,” he said softly, pressing his face into her hair. It was like silk, the fine strands sticking to the ridges of his skin. “But you do what you gotta, if it’s with me or with Nick. I know what this means to you. Don’t waste time thinking about how I feel about it, all right?”

“All right.”

He tucked in closer to her body, wanting badly to put his arm around her tight, but he knew her side hurt her. He settled for draping his arm across her ribs, just under her breasts. She made a soft sound of contentment and nestled her hand inside his. “When you wake up I want to take a look at those bandages.”

“I know.” She sounded resigned and he was once again reminded of how stubbornly she refused help. Even cuddled up with him in her bed and she still didn’t want him to see her ‘weak’.

“I went through a lot to patch you up, Vaultsicle. I’m not losing you to infection.”

“Okay,” she said meekly.

“Don’t give me meek bullshit. I want you alive so I can fuck you to death.”

She chuckled an airy laugh. “I promise to stay alive, then.”

“You better.”

***

The bandages were pretty clean and dry, with only a little seepage on them. He breathed a sigh of relief. His Vaultsicle would live to fight another day. After a few days and some more stimpaks, he snipped the knots of the stitches out himself late one night, with her eyes on him in the soft glow of a lantern. It was casually intimate with her in her underwear and him in just his pants, feet bare and shirtless. He didn’t even have on his tricorn to cover up his bald head. She seemed to like him that way.

“How do they look?” she asked, holding up her tank top as he worked on cutting out the stitches without snagging her skin.

“They look fine.”

“You can sew a much straighter line than I can.”

“I noticed,” he said, gesturing to her leg. “I assume you did those yourself.”

“Yeah, well, I didn’t know you could sew so well. Would’ve had you do it.”

He looked up from his work on her belly and his black eyes glittered. “That could’ve gotten interesting. Me so close to your leg…with my bare hands…” Her breath hitched in her throat. He chuckled and went back to removing the fifteen perfect loops he’d made. He was pretty impressed with himself for making them so even; she’d barely have scars. He knew how messed up he’d been that day.

“It was bad, wasn’t it?” she asked softly, as if she knew just how close she’d come to death.

“Yeah…it was. But you’re still here.”

“Thanks to you.”

“You’re welcome, Sunshine. Just don’t make me have to go through it again. Even I can’t take that much Jet.” She hummed a giggle in her throat. “There, all done.” He smoothed his hand over her skin, making her hiss as it tickled. He grinned and tagged the thought for another day. Her skin was soft and smooth, only marred now by the small scars and some rumples low on her belly from when she was pregnant.

“Hancock, what are you thinking?”

“You have a beautiful body,” he said slowly, letting his fingers trail along her ribcage and up under her breasts. His touch was sure. She appeared to like him touching her as much as liked having his hands on her. He hadn’t intended to seduce her, but he could tell that he was. She relaxed under his hand, her breathing slow but uneven.

“Why do I want you so much?” she whispered, arching into his fingers a bit now that her side didn’t hurt so much. He shrugged and kept touching her. He set the scissors aside quickly and climbed into the bed next to her, their faces near enough for kissing.

“You have weird taste in men?”

“None of that. I like you the way you are.” She pushed up her chin, pouting her lips and he didn’t resist the blatant invitation. Her mouth was heated under his, her tongue boldly dancing with his until he felt his own breathing hitch.

“Woman, you will be my undoing.” It was comforting and natural to lay beside her, like they’d been doing it all their lives. She tucked her hands over his arm and he watched her fingers trace small patterns on his skin.

“I like this,” she said presently. “I’ve missed having someone share my space.”

“I’ve never had this,” he admitted. She swung her head over to look at him, her eyes wide and dewy. “I’ve never met anyone so willing to snuggle up to a ghoul.”

“Well, get used to it. I like to snuggle up to you. You’re so warm,” she said in a teasing tone, shifting closer until her hip was pushed up against his groin. He instantly began to stir and she giggled again. “I even like it when you poke me.”

“Yeah, I’ll get around to poking you proper when you’re all better.”

“I’m better now,” she cooed with a smile.

“No, you’re not.” He pressed a kiss against her forehead gently. Any more real kisses and he might forget what he knew. “Get some rest, Vaultsicle.”

“Fine, but don’t leave. I want you to say with me.”

“All right.”

They stayed in a sort of physically limited limbo in the days that followed. She always wanted him to sleep next to her, was insistent upon it, in fact, but as she was still recovering her strength there was no question of anything further. Instead they learned each other’s bodies, what they liked, what made them tick. There was no rush, almost as if now that he had her, he was able to take it slow. She loved to touch him, to run her hands over him until she knew where every dip and fold was in his mangled skin. And what she could do to him with those hands…he swore he’d done more laundry in a week than in the past year. He loved to touch her too, marveling at the fine sweep of her body, the silky weight of breasts and honeyed heat between her legs. He loved to watch her come on nothing more than his clever fingers. They made out like teenagers, incessantly and giggly. But there was infinite patience too, like they had all the time in the world.

He wondered if she was preparing herself mentally for what could be a suicide mission to find her lost son. She didn’t talk about it much, but it was always in her eyes. He had no intention of letting her walk that road alone, though. He knew Nick was on the job. But if one gun at her back was good, two was better. When she was finally up and about, they did a tour of her nearby settlements to see if they needed anything – Tenpines, Outpost Zimonja and Abernathy Farm. He did the heavy lifting and generally kept his eye on her. She was so exhausted after these little trips that she rarely did more than kiss him goodnight before collapsing into sleep after. He was content to hold her, keep her inevitable nightmares at bay. He wanted to protect her from the world, and knew it was foolish because she certainly didn’t need him to. Still, he wanted to.

_Is this what love means? Willing to lay down your life for another? Wanting to spend every waking moment together?_

When the word came that Kellogg was most likely at Fort Hagan – delivered by Dogmeat with a note from Nick tucked into the bandana Nora used as a collar on her faithful canine – they had their first real argument.

“Wear the damned power suit, Nora.”

“It’s not finished,” she replied sharply.

His temper flared, hot and volatile. “I don’t care if it’s not finished. Wear the fucking armor or so help me God I will tan your ass until you look like me.”

She looked stunned at his sharp and cutting tone. She looked like she wanted to keep fighting him about it. He took a deep breath and rested his forehead against hers. His anger subsided as he stroked her cheek with a gnarled finger. They were standing in the road, heading down past the Red Rocket before leaving to meet Nick and he remembered the half assembled suit in her workshop.

“I don’t want to pick bullets out of you ever again. I can’t lose you. You’re the best thing I got. Please.”

“Do I really mean that much to you?” she whispered, tears in her eyes. He wiped them away with his thumbs. He never thought it would end up being so easy to say. He supposed he shouldn’t have been surprised; it was so easy to care for her.

“Oh, Sunshine, didn’t you know? I love you. I’m _in_ love with you.” He stepped back so he could see her whole face. “You mean everything to me.”

“Oh, Hancock…” she started, but he interrupted her with a kiss. And she clung to him, the way she always did, giving as good as she got. When he pulled back, he kept her face framed in his hands, kept her attention on him.

“You know I wasn’t always a ghoul, but I’ve never told you how I became one.”

“No, you haven’t.”

“I’ve always like my chems. I liked the high, I liked the feeling of rebellion and escape from a shitty life in the field of Diamond City. Then I had to leave and I wandered, and getting high was all I had. After I ended up in Goodneighbor for good, after that murder where I stood by and did nothing to stop Vic, I was…well, I was low. Survivor’s guilt, I guess. Sure, I’d made myself Mayor and had all the attention and respect I could want, but I got tired of seeing my face looking at me in the mirror every day. I knew deep down that I was just a washed up junkie who didn’t stand up to a tyrant until it was too late for someone else.”

“You don’t need to tell me all this,” she said.

“I do,” he said forcefully. “You need to know what kind of man I am. I _was_. I found a chem, only one of its kind, only one hit and the high promised to send me out of this world. Yeah, I knew it was an experimental radiation drug, but I didn’t care anymore. I would either blow it all away or end up a ghoul. I liked the odds.”

“You wanted it to kill you,” she said insightfully. His shoulders slumped. Now she knew everything there was to know; that he’d wanted to end his life. That he’d actively tried.

“I wanted it to,” he admitted aloud for the first time. “But it didn’t. I woke up covered in skin that was falling off and changes going on in my body and suddenly I was glad. I knew that no matter what, I never had to look at that shitty bastard in the mirror again. And I learned to live with the side effects. Happily even.”

He paused to gauge her reaction. She was still there, still listening, waiting for him to finish. “I’ve had a few years to come to terms with what happened to the ghouls of Diamond City, with Vic and his cronies. I’ve tried to do better than them. Built a place where I could be proud to hang my hat. I thought I’d managed it. And then I met you. Sunshine and innocence and toughness and grit. You’ve been through something that I couldn’t even imagine and yet, here you are, walking down a dirt road to a place you’ve never been. Not knowing what’s waiting for you at the other end, and you’re not afraid.”

“I am afraid,” she said, and he could hear her voice quivering with it. “But I can’t let it stop me. I have to do what’s right, Hancock. I have to find him.”

“And I want to help you find him. This, this right here, this is what marks the difference between us, and why I love and admire you so much. I ran from my fears, but you face them. Every day you face them, and then you go out and you help strangers with no thought on the returns. You do it simply because it is right. I have never known a stronger person than you.”

She cupped his cheek in her hand, her eyes luminous in the soft light of the afternoon. “Neither have I,” she said, and tiptoed to kiss him. “It took courage to do those things, to right those wrongs, no matter if you ran at first, you came back to finish it in the end. I know it took courage for you to tell them to me. You _are_ strong, John. Stronger than you know. And I love you for it.”

He let out a gusty breath. She hadn’t turned away, had fled from his darkest secret. “Ya know, I was all right with being in love with you. Everyone else is. But for you to love me back after all that shows some serious lack in your judgment, Sunshine.” But he said it with a grin.

“Oh, shut up.” She tried to swat him, but he caught her hand and brought her knuckles to his lips. He placed her other hand over his heart.

“If you want to wake up to this ugly mug every day, I’ll be the last one to complain about it. Hell, I love that you want me to be near you. I’m warning you now, though. People _will_ complain about it.”

“I’m sure they will. All those hearts dashed to pieces when they learn Mayor Hancock of Goodneighbor is off the market.”

“That’s not what I meant,” he said, suddenly serious.

“I want your face to be the first thing I see when I wake, and the last thing I see before I sleep and I don’t give a flying fuck what anyone else thinks about it. Think you can manage that?” He barked out a laugh and drew her close. She tucked herself into the hollow of his shoulder, her head under his chin. And it was like they were meant to fit this way it was so perfect.

“I think so. Karma can blow me. No one like me should ever be so lucky to have someone like you. C’mon, love. Get your fine ass in that armor and let’s get this freak show on the road. I ain’t goin’ nowhere without you. To hell and back.”

“To hell and back,” she nodded. Before she got in the armor, though, she clung to him for a moment, her body strung tight. “And when we get home, you better fucking deliver.”

“I never make a promise I know I won’t keep, and oh, Sunshine, I promise you have no idea what’s in store for you.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yeah, yeah, canon divergence and dialogue all out of order, sue me. Reading between the lines I've always had the impression that Hancock tried to kill himself with that chem, and he covers it with bluster. Nora can see through that bull a mile off, but she also understands and can empathize. 
> 
> Things are heating up story-wise, and I'm wondering if I should start updating this more regularly. Yay or nay, dear readers?


	8. Resilience

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which love and war and hot running water take center stage.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> “’Deep into that darkness peering, long I stood there, wondering, fearing…’” Nick quoted, and Nora turned away from the blimp to stare at him. 
> 
> “The Raven. I didn’t know anyone still knew it, Nick,” she said.

Fort Hagen was only a couple hours’ hike from Sanctuary Hills, it turned out. “God, he was right under my nose,” Nora said, turning in the half painted power suit to face him, her face visible as she carried the helmet under her arm. “I hope this isn’t a trap.”

“Only one way to find out,” Hancock replied. They met Nick in the nearby Red Rocket Truck Stop.

“John, I wasn’t expecting you.”

“I go where she goes,” he replied, shaking Nick’s hand – his left one. Even a ghoul would think twice about grabbing the bare metal fingers of his right one.

“Hey doll, don’t let all that horsepower go to your head.”

She gave him a sad sort of smile. “I won’t Nick. It’s good to see you.”

“And you.” Nick led them to a spot where they could see the roof of the fort but were out of sight. “Turrets on every side,” the synth said. “The front door is blocked off with cinderblocks and sand bags. Somebody’s home.”

“How will we get in then?” Nora asked.

“There’s a parking garage around the back. Must be an entrance there, but it will put us in the basement. We’ll have to comb the whole place.”

“Not a problem,” she said fiercely.

“You ready for this?” Hancock and Nora both nodded. “Well, all right. Shall we dance with this particular devil, doll?”

“We shall.” She seemed to understand the reference even if Hancock did not.

They ended up finding an unlocked door in the lowest level of the parking garage and worked their way up, fighting wave after wave of mechanical Gen-1 synths with tinny voices and sharp laser weapons as well as a handful of Gen-2’s that looked like Nick, although they didn’t have anything like his personality. Hancock was glad he’d battled Nora into that power armor.

“Why are they called Gen-1’s and 2’s?” she asked when they stopped to have a breather after a particularly difficult shoot out in a narrow corridor. She hadn’t even fought him when he wanted her to use a stimpak or two. They found what appeared to be the commissary, still stocked with tables and chairs and the remnants of ancient meals, littered liberally with skeletons.

“The Institute’s been making synths for a hundred years or more,” Nick said, his suave noir drawl in keeping with his crumpled suit and tattered fedora, as always. “These ones that we’ve been fighting, they’re the oldest, the first generation. You couldn’t mistake these clanking machines for human on their best day.” He kicked the nearest dead one so that it thumped metallically across the floor. “The next batch, if you will, the Gen-2’s, they were like a stop gap. More sophisticated programming, better actuators, but still not human enough. Like yours truly. I have never met another one like me, in fact, with a fully formed independent personality protocol. The ones they make now, Gen-3’s, are indistinguishable from people. They feel, they react, they bleed.”

“Thus the fear running wild throughout the Commonwealth,” Hancock interjected. “If you can’t tell who’s human and who ain’t, paranoia sets in.”

“So what we’re inferring here is that if we track down Kellogg in this place, with all these synths around, then the Institute is involved? Do you think they have Shaun? Now I understand why Piper asked me about it.”

“Either they do, or Kellogg’s been holding out and employing himself elsewhere. He’s a rather hard to follow character. His MO has always been swift, brutal and remorseless. But, Nora, the intel we dug up in Diamond City suggested he had a kid with him. Not a baby. I don’t want to get your hopes up too high, doll. This could still be a dead end.”

“But you said my description of him matched what is known about Kellogg.”

“It does,” Nick agreed readily. “I can’t imagine there are two men like Kellogg out there.” He shuddered, a very human response. Sometimes Hancock could forget that Nick wasn’t human and was only reminded of it when he saw him in mixed company, as it were. “I just don’t know what the connection is here.”

“Well,” he said, standing up and pulling out his shotgun again. “I guess it’s time we find out.”

They kept working their way through the twisting corridors and collapsed rooms, knowing they were getting closer to their objective when Kellogg began taunting them over the PA system. It made Hancock’s blood boil to hear the faceless killer calling Nora a frozen dinner with such scorn. Sure, he called her Vaultsicle, but that had only ever been with affection. Hidden behind the mask of her helmet, he couldn’t tell how it was affecting her, but she seemed calm and relaxed, ready for anything to jump out of the shadows.

Finally they reached the last set of doors, and Kellogg’s promise that he and his synths were standing down. Nora entered the narrow room full of banks of computers with her two companions behind her. When she saw the man with the scarred face and sophisticated armor piece on his arm she made a sound like she’d been kicked in the stomach. Hancock had no doubt she was seeing him shoot her husband in her mind.

“There she is, the most resilient woman in the Commonwealth. Funny, I thought I had that honor.”

“Where’s my baby, you asshole!” she shouted at Kellogg, getting right into his face.

“What's the cliché? ‘So close, but yet so far away?’ That's Shaun.” The mercenary seemed amused, and Hancock almost felt like warning the guy that it wasn’t wise to underestimate Nora. “Great kid. A little older than you may have expected, but I'm guessing you figured that out by now. But if you're hoping for a happy reunion? Ain't gonna happen, pal. Your boy's not here.”

“Where is he?” she asked, low and quiet.

“Lady, I'm just a puppet like you. My stage is a little bigger, that's all.”

“Tell me where he is,” she asked again, still quiet and calm. Hancock didn’t know how she was holding it together, but she was managing and he felt a surge of pride at her control. He wasn’t sure he could be this calm faced with the same situation.

“Fine. I guess you've earned that much. Shaun's in a good place. Where he's safe, and comfortable, and loved. A place he calls home. The Institute.”

“Then you’re going to take me to him.” She raised the 10mm until it was snug under his chin. No one could see her face since it was hidden behind the helmet of the suit, but Hancock thought he could imagine it.

“Take you to him?” he laughed. “Like I could, even if I wanted to. Don't you get it? Your son, he's in a place nobody can reach.”

“ _You_ must have a way.”

“God, you're persistent. I give you credit. It's the way a parent should act. The way I'd be acting if I were in your place, I like to think. Even if it is useless. In another life, you probably would have been a good mother. But here... in this terrible reality? You just don't get that chance. You know, you surprise me, I have to admit. I find myself actually kind of... liking you.” Kellogg chuckled, not at all seeming to be threatened by the pistol in his face. “You don’t find the Institute, they find you.”

He was too calm for Hancock’s liking, he was playing it too cool. There was nothing more to find here. It was as Nick had said, a dead end.

“But, I think we’ve talked long enough,” Kellogg was saying. “We both know how this is going to end.”

“We do,” Nora agreed and she seemed almost sad about it. But there was also a coldness in her voice that Hancock had never heard before.

She shot Kellogg at point blank range, but it didn’t kill him. They battled it out for a few minutes, while he and Nick dealt with the synths that poured out of hiding places all over the room. At last she finished him off with a shot to the head, splattering his brain all over the floor. She sounded like she was crying inside the suit. Then she bent down and picked up something from the grisly remains. “All this tech. You were barely human,” she murmured to the body. She stripped off the armor piece too, a less gory souvenir.

“What have you got there?” Nick asked into the silence. Nora turned and showed him the bloody bit of brain she held in her hand, melded completely with something that almost looked like a miniature computer. “Huh. I think I know where we can take this to get some more information. Hang in there, doll. The night just got darker, but it can’t last forever.”

“Thank you, Nick. Where do we need to go?”

Nick looked over at Hancock, who nodded. “The Memory Den,” Hancock said roughly. He knew what that piece was, it was a modified synth component. The piece that all Gen-3 synths had as a processor in their brains, that made them tick. He may be just a tourist for the Railroad, but he knew things just the same. Had Kellogg been a synth too?

The trio left the fort by way of the roof and as they stood there, discussing their next move, lights lit up the night sky and a huge aircraft began to move slowly into view, surrounded by support vertibirds. An automated message was playing, announcing the arrival of the Brotherhood of Steel in peace. Nora watched the huge airship as it flew, while Nick and Hancock exchanged a dark glance. They both knew what this meant. There would never be peace for people like them from the Brotherhood.

“’Deep into that darkness peering, long I stood there, wondering, fearing…’” Nick quoted, and Nora turned away from the blimp to stare at him.

“The Raven. I didn’t know anyone still knew it, Nick,” she said. “Nothing good will come of this, from what Hancock’s told me of the Brotherhood of Steel.”

“No,” Nick agreed. “Nothing good.”

“Let’s get out of here,” she said softly, her voice choked.

***

Their return trip took another day, since it was already too late to travel far. They made a sort of camp in the Red Rocket. Hancock and Nick cleared out some radroaches from a nearby house and he cooked them with a side of fern fiddleheads over an open fire in the bay of the truck stop, making Nora eat once she’d gotten out of her power armor.

“I’m sorry I’m not great company right now,” she said apologetically when he handed her the food.

“No one could expect you to bounce back from that without some reaction, doll,” Nick said from where he stood, keeping watch.

“I know, it’s just…”

“Hey, we learned some things,” Hancock said. “We know your son is alive, and relatively safe, even if he’s with the boogeyman. I don’t think Kellogg lied about that. Now we just need to figure out how to get you in there.”

“You’re right, Hancock.” She leaned into his shoulder and he draped an arm over her and pulled her close. “Easy peasy, right?”

“Hah, probably not, but hey, we’re all in it. We’ll figure it out.”

“Thank you. I love you, you know.” Hancock saw Nick’s head turn slightly at that, but he didn’t comment. Well, he wasn’t going to hide it from him either.

“I love you too, Sunshine. Now, I think you should get some sleep. Nick and I will keep watch.”

She curled up in her sleeping bag right there at the fire side and he went to join Nick in the open bay door of the station.

“Love is it?” the old synth murmured when he got to his side.

“Yeah, just sort of happened,” Hancock replied, daring his oldest friend, the man who’d always been around when he got into trouble as a kid, and even as a young adult, to say anything about it.

“Good for you, for both of you,” was all Nick said, though. Hancock smiled to himself. If Nick approved, then nothing would stop him from telling the whole world.

Goodneighbor was a welcome sight for both of them. They’d parted ways with Nick near Diamond City; he wanted to check in with Ellie and said he would meet them at the Memory Den soon. He and Nora went straight up to the State House, and she didn’t even bother getting out of her armor until they were safely inside, away from prying eyes in Hancock’s office. She looked battered and dirty and tired, but she made polite conversation with Fahrenheit while he tidied his desk, looking over the paperwork his second had managed for him since he’d been gone.

He overheard the two women comparing scars and thought Nora was pulling through the worst of her shock. It had to be like losing her son all over again, he knew, but she was doing all right. If anything, she was more determined to find him than ever. Fahr made an offhand comment and she laughed aloud. He hadn’t heard that laugh in days. It still made him shiver.

Catching his eye, Fahr made a swift exit, leaving them alone. For maybe the first time in his life, Hancock felt nervous with a woman. He didn’t know what she expected, or what she was ready for. Strange to feel that way after how close they’d become. Still, he’d never had to deal with a woman as on edge – and with as good a reason to be – as she was. She had wandered out of the office to dump her backpack in the bedroom; he could hear her rustling around in it for something. When he heard the click of a tin, he knew.

“You once said something about hot water, right?” she asked, low and breathy. It slid over him, made heat run down his body, even after everything else they’d been through. He’d never get tired of that voice.

“I sure did. Finally gonna take me up on it?” he replied, his back still to her as he looked through a pile of folders. When he turned around, he was glad he hadn’t looked at her before he spoke. Her hair was loose around her arms and body, a body that was completely naked already, Pip-Boy and all. “Sunshine, you are a sight.”

“Why, thank you, love.” He kept staring, he couldn’t help it. It was one thing to see her naked in bed, reclined against her pillow and half tangled in blankets, but seeing her standing there in his own room with nothing on but her own glow… “What’s the matter?”

“Nothin’.” He smiled a crooked half smile and slid his hands around her waist. She pressed herself up against him, tipping her head back to see his face. “I’m not sure I ever want to let you out of my sight. Not even for a second.”

“So don’t,” she teased, her eyes glinting, her anguish banished for the moment.

 _What I wouldn’t give to keep her just like this_ , he thought.

She pulled his head down for a kiss, warm and sweet, and a touch gritty from all the dirt she’d carried with her from Fort Hagen. “All right, hot water, coming up.”

Hancock knew his bathroom was luxurious by the standards of the Commonwealth. He had a real porcelain tub and working facilities, scavenged and refurbished from the ruins of others buildings. He and Fahrenheit had cooked up a way to heat water with a boiler down in the basement, piping it up to the second floor with prohibitively expensive copper pipes. The water then drained down into a cistern attached to an industrial purifier, where it became part of Goodneighbor’s public water supply.

He enjoyed having his skin soften from being submerged; it was the only time he still felt human, and that was the whole reason he’d built it. No one knew that, though. For most, it was just a novelty among the many novelties of being the Mayor of Goodneigbor. He’d done most of the work himself after finding and reading some old manuals on plumbing. And Fahr, for all her bluster about chess and her deadly demeanor, liked to tinker. He still felt they’d done a pretty good job. He filled the tub about halfway, guessing on its own it would be too hot for Nora’s soft skin. He filled the rest with buckets of cold water from the pump.

“Your hot bath awaits,” he announced when he was done. She’d curled up in his chair, slender legs tucked up and her arms around her knees. She looked like a child in his big chair, her eyes wide and amused watching him carry the empty buckets to a closet. “What?”

“So is this solicitous streak I keep seeing a part of your nature or is just because you want to fuck me?” she asked. He pretended to think it over.

“Yes.” She nodded, suddenly grinning and hopped off the chair – God, he could not watch her bounce around like that for long – and went in to sink into the water, soap in hand. “Did you pop a Rad-X?” he inquired, remembering that the water was not purified when it came out of his taps. It didn’t matter to him since it actually had a healing effect, and he rarely shared, so it wasn’t usually an issue. The whole softskinned girlfriend thing was going to take some getting used to in ways he’d never really thought about before.

 _Your body could make her sick, you could kill her_ , he thought, and ruthlessly shut down that line of thought. That’s why there was Rad-X and RadAway, right?

“Shit,” he heard, and grabbed her bottle from her pack, lifting up the silver backed brush when he saw it too. She was lying in the tub as deeply as she could, her hair hanging over the edge nearly to the floor. He dropped a radiation resistance pill in her mouth, and snagged a stool with his foot and dropped down on it behind her. He lifted the tangled mass of her hair into his lap. She giggled then hummed. “What are you doing?”

“Brushing your hair.”

“I can do that.”

“I know. It’s so gorgeous and I been wantin’ to get my hands on it. There’s never time when we’re on the road…or you’re recovering from bullet holes.” She stifled a giggle at that. It was then quiet in the room, steam faintly moistening the air from the tub, only the sound of her occasional movements and the brush sliding through her hair breaking the stillness.

“Hancock?” she asked after a while.

“Hmm?”

“How am I going to do this?” He was silent for a moment as he framed his thoughts, enjoying the silk of her hair running through his fingers, clinging to him with static. She was relaxed, almost boneless, as the heat of the water worked a magic on her tense muscles no amount of chems could do.

“You’ll do what you gotta. You and me, we’re like junkyard dogs. We find a scrap of something and call it ours. We defend it, fight off anything that comes our way and take no prisoners. We fight with anything that comes to hand, even our teeth and nails. Everything becomes a tool in our hands. The Institute will be no different.”

“But how…”

“Doesn’t matter how. You’ll get it done. You’ll find a way. _We’ll_ find a way.” He stopped his brushing, since all the knots were long gone and put the brush on the floor. There was an empty glass standing next to the tub and he had another idea. He slipped out of his frockcoat and shirt and pushed her until she sat up in the water, pouring hot water over her upturned head to get it wet. “The world’s always gonna have tyrants. All we can do is our best to make sure there’s fewer every day.”

He rubbed his hands into her scalp with the soap, lathering the fiery fall, scrubbing it clean. He rinsed it with the glass until it was glossy and sleek. There was a tender look on his face that would have made her cry if she could see it. He continued pouring the water over her, watching the rivulets run off her and wondering if it felt any different to her than it did to him. Probably. Her nerves were still sensitive to the lightest touch, unlike his own. Leathery skin did come with disadvantages in certain circumstances. The water grew tepid and she started to shiver a little.

“C’mon, get out of there before your Rad-X wears off. I think you’re well cooked.” He scrubbed her down with a towel and squeezed out the excess water from her hair, leaving it to hang down around her shoulders in ropes. She was flushed from the heat and so clean she nearly squeaked. He could see the ugly scar on her leg from where she’d stitched herself up, and the neater but pinker scars on her belly where he had. She had bruises on her shoulder where her .308 stock had kicked back at her with recoil before she’d switched to her pistol. But he didn’t think he had ever seen anything so delicious. “Look at you,” he said.

“What about me?” she replied, a teasing light in her eyes.

“You’re so perfect.”

“Hardly,” she disputed.

He stood up and put his arms around her, her skin against his. “You’re perfect to me.”

“John?” she whispered, her face just inches away from his.

“What?”

“Take me to bed.”

“You sure?”

“What, you want to keep waiting?” She arched a brow at him with a sly grin. He gave her an answering one and hefted her right into his arms, making her laugh suddenly.

“Don’t have to tell me twice.”

He carried her like that into his room and laid her carefully down on the bed, stopping only to drop his pants and kick off his boots until he was naked too. She raised herself on an elbow to look at him. She always had such love in her eyes. No revulsion, no hesitation. She smiled and reached for him and he went.

They each urged the other one with touches and nips and kisses, sliding across the sheets and getting tangled in her long, wet hair. It was like any other night that he’d been in bed with her, but it was different too. She wasn’t in pain – well physically anyway – and she was as ravenous for his touch as he was to touch her. She arched into his hands as he cupped her breasts, she wrapped her legs around his as he burrowed between them to get closer. He was hard as soon as he came to rest against her heat, and he tilted his hips to brush against her, making her jump.

“I don’t know if I can go slow,” he warned.

“I don’t want you to.”

“I know it’s been a long time, Sunshine.”

“I don’t care. I just want you inside me.”

He tested her readiness with long strokes, and she moaned softly. He teased her clit until she writhed and bucked before sliding his finger into her as far as it would go. When he got her wet enough he replaced his finger with the head of his cock and pushed in as gently as he could manage. But she wasn’t having that. She lifted her hips, tucking her legs around his back to gain more leverage and he obliged her wordless request, plunging in until she gasped and he couldn’t get any deeper.

It was a shock how hot and tight she was. He dropped his head onto hers, their foreheads touching. She made mewling little noises as she adjusted to the intrusion of his body in hers. He knew it had to sting at least, and hurt at worst. That knowledge was enough to keep him still inside her.

“Sunshine…” he breathed before he captured her mouth, pushing his tongue between her lips, swallowing her small sounds. Her hands dug into his back and she pulled him higher onto her body, changing the angle until she was more comfortable. “Better?” he asked when he ended the kiss.

“Much,” she said on a sigh. She was clenched on him like a fist. He groaned in her ear as he began to move, withdrawing just a little to slide back in. Each stroke got easier as she got wetter. She began to move with him, the cradle of her thighs tightening as pleasure began to overtake discomfort. “More…” she begged.

And he gave. He increased the pace, drawing out a little bit more to plunge back in a little bit harder, a little bit faster. She was slick now, and he was able to get just that last bit deeper until she was filled with him. Her nails dug into his back and he grinned down at her.

“Are you gonna come for me?” he teased, feeling the walls of her center start to quiver around his cock; he knew she was close.

“Are you?” she teased back, rolling her lower body in a way that made her insides clench on him in a whole new way. He groaned, and thrust deep. She gasped and urged him to do it again.

He lay flat on her chest, holding her hips in his hands, pulling her tight to him. His cock rubbed against her clit with every stroke and soon she was beyond speech, teasing or otherwise. All at once the tension in her body released and she cried out, pulsating around him as she came. Her body arched into his as he drove her higher and higher, milking ever last bit of pleasure from her. His own climax built until he too fell over that edge, spilling into her willing body, nearly blinded by the force of it.

He pulled out of her before she could get sore, and found the towel so she could clean herself up. She was pliant and rosy afterwards and when he curled up with her she put her hand on his heartbeat the way she usually did. He hadn’t asked why she did that, but he figured he knew. He was alive, warm and present. He felt like he had so little to offer her other than himself, but it appeared to be enough. More than enough.

“That was pretty incredible, John,” she said softly.

“Yeah, it was.”

“I might need to wait a bit before we can do it again,” she complained. He chuckled.

“Yeah, I know. Don’t worry, Sunshine. Now that I know what I got, I ain’t lettin’ it go any time soon.”

“Good.”

She fell asleep in minutes, while he held her. He reached over to the bedside table and grabbed an inhaler of Jet, hitting it just once to slow things down so he could enjoy it more. She breathed slow and even, her clean skin mixed with the scent of their sex hitting his mangled nose. He didn’t think he ever wanted to move again. After a while, when the high had been ridden and he was completely relaxed, he surprised himself by falling asleep too.

***

When he woke he was alone in the big bed. He’d slept without her? He never did that with a lover. Of course, he’d never had one like her.

The double doors of the bedroom were open. He heard low voices in the office and moved to the end of the bed to see Nora and Fahrenheit playing chess on the coffee table between the two sofas in the office. He lounged on his elbow and watched. Fahr seemed to be concentrating on the game harder than she normally did.

 _Can play chess_ , he added to his mental file. _Is actually playing chess with my daughter_.

He hadn’t said anything to Nora about that fact. And honestly, since becoming a ghoul and effectively no longer aging, he and Fahr never talked about it. What had been an embarrassing misstep in his misspent youth had become the greatest thing in his life…until Nora. Fahr’s mother was long gone now, dead somewhere in the ruins of Boston, another casualty of both the harshness of the post-apocalyptic world and his own careless apathy. They hadn’t even met until she was grown, but he’d always known about her. She’d never seemed to mind that her father was a playboy chemhead. Or a ghoul, for that matter. She’d supported him in every decision, stood by him through thick and thin and had his back. It didn’t take long for him to trust her with his life, or his businesses. Their relationship was equal parts caustic and affectionate and it suited them both just fine.

He left the bed, dressing in his usual ruffled shirt and ancient frockcoat and went into the office to watch the game. Nora was good. She’d pinned Fahr’s king into a corner and was systematically taking down every other piece on the board. He wasn’t even that good. Fahr usually beat him. It was over in just a few more moves and Fahr toppled over her king with a sigh that sounded oddly warm and friendly.

“Good game,” she said. “Again?”

“Sure, set’em up.” Only then did Nora tip her head back and look at him. “Morning, Hancock.”

“Mornin’, Sunshine.” He dropped a kiss on her lips. It quickly became heated and his breathing became uneven. She squirmed and he knew without a doubt that she was still feeling last night, but not caring about it at the moment.

“You two make me sick,” Fahr sneered, but Hancock could see she wasn’t serious.

“Oh, c’mon, you know you don’t mean that,” Nora said with a hefty dose of snark. Fahrenheit actually smiled at her. Somewhere he’d missed the fact that his Vaultsicle and his second had become friends.

“No, you’re good for him.”

“Not that he needs any help.”

“You’re right, he is pretty good all on his own.”

“Careful,” Hancock said lightly. “You’ll give me a big head.”

“Couldn’t be any worse than the one you’ve already got.” Fahr included him in her sarcastic glance. He chuckled and ruffled her hair. She scowled. “My move,” she said, indicating the board. And the game was on again.

“How long have you two been at it?”

“About an hour,” Nora replied absently. “This is our third game.”

“Tie breaker,” Fahr said, competitiveness in her voice.

“I’ll leave you to it, then.” He wandered over to his desk with the idea that he would look at the new trade agreement with Bunker Hill, but couldn’t concentrate. He spun around and sat watching them, idly lighting up a cigarette. There was fire in Nora’s eyes as she played, and a look of deep thought in Fahrenheit’s. It was remarkably odd seeing them across from each other, so absorbed in the game they didn’t even exchange playful barbs. He knew how old his daughter was – almost thirty – but Nora was pre-war, over 210 years old and looked about ten years younger than Fahrenheit. It made for a strange dichotomy. He shook his head and blew a smoke ring. Well, tried to anyway. Hard to make rings without lips that pursed evenly.

“There was a message from Nick,” Nora announced. “He’s waiting for us at the Memory Den.”

“All right.”

“What do you hope to learn?” Fahr asked.

“I dunno,” Nora replied. “But any piece of information will help.”

“I hope you find your son.”

“Thank you.” After that it was silence again, only the slide and click of the pieces moving on the board making any noise. Fahrenheit won again, keeping her winning streak alive.

“Good game,” she said, a fierce sort of joy on her face. She seemed to think she’d finally met a woman who was her father’s match and it made her happy. He could see it plainly in her expression.

“I’ll have to step it up some,” Nora murmured with a smile. Without saying goodbye, Fahr swept out of the room and took herself off to do whatever it was she did around here when he was home. Often that meant just standing in a corner, a tough looking bodyguard with no patience for anyone. Her trust in Nora went deep, Hancock realized. This wasn’t the first time she’d left them completely alone together. Even his Triggermen guards were absent from the upper floor, he noticed. Nora arranged the pieces back on the board, in anticipation of the next game, he didn’t doubt.

“You all right?”

“I’m fine, love.”

“Have you eaten?” he asked, stubbing out his cigarette in the dirty ashtray already overflowing with spent butts.

“Why are you always so concerned with my eating habits?” she exclaimed as if she’d been bottling the question up for a long time.

“You’re a skinny Vaultsicle. You need to eat more if you’re going to continue burning it off before it has a chance to make itself at home on your bones.”

“You mean before _you_ do. I hate the food here.” Now she sounded grumpy. He knew she meant in the Commonwealth as a whole and not specifically in Goodneighbor.

“You still need to eat.” He got up, dropping his tricorn over his bald head. “There’s only enough room in this town for one emaciated creature.”

“You’re not emaciated.”

“Heh, you didn’t know me before. And you’ve been to Diamond City. I assume you’ve met my fat ass of a brother.”She giggled. It was true that Mayor McDonough carried some extra weight around, and that didn’t mean politically.

“Are you saying you used to be fat?” She raised her eyebrows in mock astonishment. She was in a playful mood today and he didn’t have to question why. He grinned at her.

“Not fat, exactly. Just more padded.”

She stood and slid her arms around him. “I like you just fine the way you are.”

“Crazy Vaultsicle, getting mixed up with a worn out junkie ghoul. What’s wrong with you?”

“Nothing at all.” She lifted her head for another kiss and there was no way he would deny her. Eventually he let her go, determined that she should eat before they went to see Nick. Then he’d see how much fun he could have with her while accommodating her soreness.

“Food first,” he said when he stepped away from her body. “Then the Memory Den.”

“Fine,” she sighed sourly. He swatted her backside as he passed her on the way to the spiral stairs. She had a pair of loose fitting jeans on with a bright flannel. He smirked to himself, giddy as a teenager about why she needed clothing so…comfortable.

“And no fightin’ me on it,” he commented, getting back to the subject at hand.

“All right, all right, you win.”

“Good.” He took her to Daisy and made sure she ate every scrap of food he put in front of her. Then they walked over to the Memory Den, hand in hand.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, yeah, about Fahrenheit (who I love to death and wish there were more speech options for). According to the programming files, she is tagged as being his daughter, but it was cut from the game itself. Probably because the player can choose to kill her during the Big Dig quest, and why the hell would Hancock travel with you if you’ve killed his only child? I’d love to hear your thoughts on my treatment of this somewhat obscure information, dear reader.
> 
> And, yay, my lovelorn idiots finally got their act together!


	9. Links

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Hancock learns just what his Sunshine is made of.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> “These memories, they explain a lot about him,” Amari went on.
> 
> “Yes. I think I can forgive him for what he did to my family. I have to.” Nora looked sad, as if in finding out this one thing it had led to more than she wanted to know. It had made the destroyer of her family human.
> 
> “You’re a bigger person than I am, then,” the doctor commented dryly.
> 
> “I have to,” Nora repeated. “Otherwise I’ll become just like him."

The Memory Den was dimly lit and decorated like some old, pre-war boudoir as always. Red curtains, burning candles, comfortable lounge chairs…and high tech glass pods that attached to the occupant’s brainstem and relived old memories for them, playing them out as if they were happening. Irma, the Den’s proprietor, was lounging in her favorite chaise when they came in, hand in hand.

“Nicky’s downstairs with Dr. Amari,” she said, languidly waving a hand at them. She nodded a greeting to Nora and Hancock realized they’d met before. He was curious, of course. He was insatiably curious about his Vaultsicle. She caught his eye.

“I’ve been in here before. A Railroad thing.”

“Gotcha.”

In the basement level of the Den, Dr. Amari had set up her synth reprogramming lab. Of course, it wasn’t called that in public and she was just Goodneighbor’s resident medic on the books. Medical equipment littered the room, a bright show of professional prowess that she rarely used. Most of Goodneighbor’s denizens preferred not to draw attention to any wounds they might have, a mix of bravado and streetwise cleverness. His town might be of the people, but that didn’t mean you wanted to walk around advertising that you were an easy mark.

Nick was already hooked into a thick loop of cables next to an open memory pod when they walked in. “This piece of tech is far more advanced than any of the synth components I’ve seen,” Dr. Amari said when they had gotten through their pleasantries. “I can’t break the lock on the organics, but I think if we hook Nora into the pod and shunt the code through Nick we can unlock what memories remain…I hope.”

“Is it dangerous?” Nora asked.

“Undoubtedly. But Nick has told me what you’re looking for, a way into the Institute, and I don’t think there is any other way.” She looked askance at Hancock before continuing. “There are others who would benefit from this information as well.”

“Yes,” Nora murmured. Nothing was said openly about the underground network; even in Goodneighbor the walls had ears. Maybe especially in Goodneighbor. “Is Nick in any danger?” Nora asked as she climbed into the open pod without little awkwardness. Hancock wondered if running an escaped synth through the Memory Den hadn’t been the only thing she’d done here. Or maybe the cryo pods from her Vault were similarly designed.

“I assure you, at the first sign of any cognitive danger to either of you, I will pull you out. I admit I’ve never done this sort of thing before, but I’m willing to try if you are.”

“All right, Amari, get this show on the road,” Nick said, sounding cross. Or maybe nervous. Did synths get nervous?

“I will load you into the strongest memories we can find,” Amari said, stepping to her computer terminal to begin the process. The glass bubble of the pod lowered over Nora and her eyes closed. She and Nick were now hardwired to each other and the flow of information from the brain bit was beginning. “They might not be stable, so just hold on.”

Hancock stepped over to Dr. Amari’s side and watched the memories on her screen with her. “Can you hear me? The simulation seems to be working, although the memories are quite fragmentary. I’ll try to step you through the intact memories, surely there must be one that will lead us to the Institute’s location.” A grainy image of a small boy’s room appeared on the screen and Dr. Amari and Hancock shared a glance. It cleared up after a moment and they could see Nora trying to interact with the images, fumbling and slow. “Remember, you are experiencing these as Kellogg. It might be disorienting at first.”

 _Kellogg’s childhood_ , Hancock thought. Hard to think of such a hardened killer as once being a child. The memories changed, linked by narrow synaptic threads. His youth and lost family, odd jobs done as he wove his way east, his first introduction to the Institute, the murder of Nora’s husband and the kidnapping of Shaun. Each new memory brought them closer and closer to the present until…a Diamond City shack, a red haired child and a synth operative in a black coat disappearing in a flashing blue arc.

“Teleportation,” Amari exclaimed under her breath, meeting Hancock’s eyes.

She brought Nick out of the neural implant first. He went upstairs, a strange look in his eyes. Nora took longer to wake, and after Hancock pushed the glass away from her prone body – it was taking too long to open for his liking – Amari injected her with a stimpak to help overcome the overload of sensory data her brain had just processed.

“Slow movements, okay? No one’s ever done this before. I’m not sure what to expect.” Nora sat in the pod, her head in her hands. “How do you feel?”

“Like my brain is on fire.” She didn’t look up. It had to be hard having an audience see the memory of her dead husband, regardless of the perspective. Hancock handed her some water and held her hand when she reached for it.

“Are you ready to discuss what you’ve seen?” Dr. Amari asked after a moment.

“Teleportation. I wonder how they manage it.”

“I suspect that is what you must find out next. But how?”

“The escaped scientist Kellogg was supposed to find, what was it…? Virgil. He must know. What’s the Glowing Sea?”

“Ground zero,” Hancock said while Amari nodded in confirmation. Nora finally got up from the pod and began walking around. She was a bit shaky still, but her strength was returning. Determination too, Hancock could see it in her eyes.

“It doesn’t make any sense,” Amari mused. “No one goes there, not even if they’re desperate. It is highly irradiated, so dangerous no human could survive for long without a massive amount of anti-radiation chems. Or a power suit.”

“It’s the perfect hiding place,” Nora said, drinking down her water as she paced.

“Perhaps, if this Virgil is using it as a cloak, yes. Anyone in their right mind would be hesitant to follow.”

“Hey, Doc, I resent that,” Hancock said. Nora cracked a grin as he’d hoped. Kellogg hadn’t been wrong when he called her resilient.

“Forgive me, Mayor,” Dr. Amari said, abashed. “Still, one has to face facts. You and your fellow ghouls are the only ones safe from the deadly radiation there.” She shook her head. “I highly doubt Ms. Howard wishes to become like you, no offense.”

“None taken.”

“These memories, they explain a lot about him,” she went on.

“Yes. I think I can forgive him for what he did to my family. I have to.” Nora looked sad, as if in finding out this one thing it had led to more than she wanted to know. It had made the destroyer of her family _human_.

“You’re a bigger person than I am, then,” Amari commented dryly.

“I have to,” Nora repeated. “Otherwise I’ll become just like him. The Institute made him into a monster. Every job he took on their behalf, every horrible thing he did…he hated them for it. He hated himself. I can’t let that happen to me, or what’s the point of fighting them?”

“I understand, I think.”

“Is Nick all right?”

“Yes,” Amari said. “I sent him upstairs already.” She turned away for a moment and retrieved the bit of brain and neural interfacing chip. “Did you want this back?”

“No, I think we’ve gotten all we can from it. It’s not like I need a memento of our time together. I already have his armor.”

“I’ll see that it’s disposed of properly,” Amari assured them.

They went upstairs, Hancock subtly supporting her as she climbed the stairs, and they found Nick slumped onto a bench near the entrance.

“Hope you got what you were looking for inside my head,” Nick said, but it was Kellogg’s voice. “Heh. I was right. I should’ve killed you when you were on ice.”

“Kellogg…?” Nora gasped.

Suddenly Nick seemed to snap out of it and shook his head. “What?”

“You…you sounded like Kellogg for a moment.”

“Did I? Well, Amari said there might be mnemonic impressions left over for a bit. I’ll be fine.”

“It was creepy,” Nora said. Then she sighed. “It looks like we need to find a way into the Glowing Sea.” She turned to Hancock. “I’ve got that suit I’ve been working on. It’ll be good enough for the trip, right?”

“Yeah, it should. But you should finish it. The Glowing Sea is a dangerous place aside from the rads. Every mutated thing you can think of lives there. I’d rather have you wearin' as much protection as you possibly can. I ain’t aiming for this to be a one way trip for you.”

“All right.” She turned back to Nick. “You need anything else?”

“Nah. I’ll head back to Diamond City. You let me know if you want company, doll…other than this fool. You know where to find me.”

“I do. See you around, Valentine.”

“Keep her safe, John,” Nick warned. _Another one hit by Cupid’s arrow_ , Hancock thought to himself. Then he nearly laughed outright. Valentine…Cupid…

“Always,” he said aloud. At least he had something approaching approval from the detective in regards to his relationship with everyone’s favorite Vaultsicle. It would have been amusing if the situation were anything other than what it was. Nick had known him a long time, all his life in fact, but it was obvious he knew Nora too. And very well.

As they were leaving the Memory Den, Nora’s Pip-Boy bleeped softly at her. “It’s a message from Preston. Looks like the Slog got hit by raiders.” She heaved a sigh. “Just what I need right now.”

“They all right?”

“Probably. I keep them pretty well defended. Still…I suppose I should make a trip out there and see in person. It would be good to see them anyway. I miss them.”

“You want me to come along?”

“Of course,” she asserted, as if there was no doubt. He pulled her close and they walked back to the State House to pack up their things for the trip.

They traveled light and worked their way north from Goodneighbor, crossing the river at the bridge past Cabot House and following the road to Bunker Hill, where they turned eastward to go cross country as far as County Crossing. They spent a quiet night there, mingling with the few settlers that had come to her beacon. While they were there she put up some new shacks with their help, anticipating more to come. While she worked she seemed to be keeping her mind focused, but he heard her crying in the night, wrapped up together in their sleeping bags. She didn’t like sympathy, he knew, so he didn’t mention it.

In the morning they cut around the Revere Satellite Array, avoiding the super mutants, and got back on a main road that led them straight to the Slog. They were able to sneak past Hub City Auto Wreckers and the Gunners there, but at Saugus Ironworks they were spotted and the Forged poured out to engage them.

“I have zero time for this shit,” Nora snarled, hefting a flamethrower from a body she’d taken down with her rifle. He could see the muscles in her arms straining to lift the heavy weapon, but her anger gave her strength and she rushed in, leaving him to follow. She was armored pretty well and the poor dumb fucks had no idea what had hit them. The noise drew the attention of the settlers at the Slog, who came in running to lend a hand. Hancock saw Wiseman among them, wielding a wicked looking minigun. Within a few minutes they had the outside of the iron forge cleared, and no injuries between them.

“Not bad, Sunshine,” he said as she looted the bodies.

“Heh, I guess not,” she replied. “Man this thing is heavy. How do they carry these around all the time?” She was trying to find a way to carry the flamer and still be able to pick the pockets clean of the dead raiders. It was too hot to put in her pack, and too ungainly to sling over her shoulder. He took it off her hands, the heat it gave off no bother to him.

“Chems, mostly.”

“Pfft, no wonder they’re so tough to kill. And crazy to boot.”

“Watch it now, I’ll get offended.”

“No you won’t,” she retorted, sticking her tongue out at him.

“C’mon, looks like Wiseman wants to talk to you.”

The handsome ghoul was indeed waiting for them at the top of the hill where the Slog was situated. “I’m glad you’ve come, Nora,” he said with his soft gravelly voice. “I was hoping the message would reach you in time.”

“What is it?” she asked after giving him a hug. Wiseman’s eyes met his over her shoulder and he gave his old friend a smile, receiving a welcoming one in return.

“Damned raiders out of Dunwich. They grabbed Deirdre.”

“Goddamned, motherfucking shit stained…” Nora’s expletive list trailed off and she squared her shoulders. Any sign of her earlier reluctance to put her plans on hold had been replaced with coldly determined anger. “When?”

“A day ago. They've given us until tomorrow to come up with a ransom, but…I figured it might be better to call on you instead.”

“A good thing too. I’m just in the mood to break some necks. I’m glad we got here in time. Don’t worry, Wiseman, we’ll get her back.”

“Don’t get yourself killed, my girl. That won’t help anyone.”

She took a deep breath and consciously let her fists go. “I won’t.”

Wiseman focused on Hancock then and held out a hand. “Good to see you, John. Didn’t know you were acquainted with our General.”

“I admit it hasn’t been for long, but I think I like her well enough,” he joked, earning himself a punch on the arm. “Ow.”

“Behave yourself, love.”

“I always do, Vaultsicle.”

“Hmm.”

Wiseman watched this exchange with something like ruefulness on his face, and Hancock wondered just how many people she’d made fall in love with her from all walks of life.

“We have some new faces. Let me introduce you,” the ghoul said as they walked into the settlement proper. Nora walked off with Wiseman and Hancock stopped to get his first glimpse of what she’d done here.

Two sturdy houses sat on the roof of the bathhouse, while around the edge of the old pool were tables and chairs, each with their own lantern or half burnt candles. On one side sat a small market with a bar and a trader, with more tables, and on the garden side there was a Brahmin penned behind a wire fence. It had been a long time since Hancock had been to the Slog – he felt guilty still about how powerless he’d been in those dark days when the ghouls had been evicted from their homes in Diamond City – but it was clear Nora had spent a lot of energy sprucing the place up, making it a welcome and well defended place.

A mix of humans and ghouls wandered around, working on the tarberries, tilling in the wide field where gourds, corn and carrots grew, or just relaxing around the bar. Turrets swung back and forth from every corner of the bathhouse and there was a guard station facing east, across the old highway in the direction of the quarry. A jukebox played soft music against the wall near the door to the common area inside the bathhouse, and gun and armor stations had been set up on the other side of the doors. On the far side of the pool sat a small shack by itself.

“That’s my house,” Nora said in his ear. “I like to have some privacy when I come here.”

“This is great,” he said, wrapping an arm around her waist. “You’ve done a lot to this place.”

“Thanks, I tried hard here.” She took a deep breath, taking in the scent of the tarberries, the gardens and the general sense of peace in the midst of so many threats. It seemed to seep into her, making her more relaxed than he’d seen her since the first time she’d woken up in his bed, way back when they’d first met.

“So, privacy, huh? Anything you want to tell me?”

She raised a brow at him. “Jealous? Think I’ve been holding out on you being my only love?”

“It’s pretty obvious Wiseman wouldn’t say no to you.”

She waved a hand, dismissing the idea. “It’s not like that. He reminds me of my grandfather. He was a coal miner and had that same raspy voice. I think that’s why I like ghouls so much,” she went on. “They remind me of…well, the past.”

“A link.”

“Yeah. Not to mention most of them that I’ve met have been pretty friendly.” She snuggled into him for a moment before tugging his arm towards the common room. “C’mon, no bar food for us tonight. Holly cooked. Radstag and tatoes.”

***

He stayed with her in her little hut and she slept curled up in his arms until first light. He’d even managed to catch a few hours himself, secure in this place where he was so welcome. He wondered if the guilt he’d carried for all these years could finally be put to rest. Certainly Wiseman and Holly had not made him feel anything but welcome; they hadn’t even chastised him for not coming to visit. Several of his former neighbors were still here at the Slog, and he’d found himself surrounded by people he’d known as another man, in another life, but it was good. They were happy and prosperous, and didn’t hold him accountable for his brother’s actions. It was strange to feel at home in a way that had nothing to do with the man he’d become.

In the morning, Nora went through her armor and patched up the pieces that were getting worn out before piling it on until she looked like a Gunner. She even wore a helmet, tucking the long ends of her hair under it to keep it out of the way.

“You ever been to Dunwich?” she asked as she was lacing her boots up tight.

“No, but I’ve heard the rumors.”

“The raiders there are strong, and a lot of them are downright scary from whatever bullshit is down under that quarry. I’ll tell you, I never believed in the supernatural until I went there.” She shuddered.

“How do we want to do this?”

“Our usual way won’t work,” she replied, taking stock of her weapons. She had cleaned her rifle after dinner last night, joking easily with Holly and flirting openly with him in front of everyone. She seemed almost like a different person around these friends of hers. In a good way. “I still intend to snipe as much as I can, since I don’t like to get too close to them, but there’s no way you can run in shooting. One, you’ll fall to your death, and two, you’ll fall to your death.”

“A quarry, huh? So, steep sides, lots of stairs, that sort of thing?”

“Yeah. Turrets too. And it’s vast. It’s so wide across I can’t even use this to target,” she held up her arm with the Pip-Boy.

“Good thing you’re such a good shot even without it.”

“I never would have thought I’d be so good at it,” she mused. She took a breath as if she was hesitant to go on, but then she forged ahead. “Nate taught me to use a gun. He said a soldier’s wife should know.”

“Nora, I’m sorry you had to go through it all again,” Hancock said, thinking of what he’d seen in Kellogg’s memories. He’d caught only a brief sight of her late husband in the memory, as if she had purposely not looked as it played out. He couldn’t blame her for that. Nate looked to have been a strong man, tall and lean with a soldier’s build. Dark hair, good features. Nothing like himself. He knew it didn’t matter, but he couldn’t help comparing himself to him. He couldn’t help wondering what she saw in him that allowed her to love him.

“Thank you, Hancock,” she said, bringing him back to the present. “He’ll always be a part of me, but he’s a part of my past now. I have you,” and she stooped over him to kiss him. “I love _you_.”

“And I love you.”

“All right, now that we got that out of the way,” and she grinned, although her eyes were a bit wet, “let’s go get Deirdre.”

Dunwich Borers was a short hike from the Slog and it took less than an hour to reach it. The early morning sun cast strong shadows down into the white stone quarry, providing cover for their stealthy approach. She seemed to be familiar with the layout and where guards were likely to be, and she took up a position where she could snipe them off one by one.

The report from her rifle seemed louder than usual in the dawn silence and he looked over at her to see her grinning. “Jones made me an upgrade,” she said. “.50 cal.”

“Jesus…” He watched as she sighted on a target on the other side of the quarry. She held her breath and shot and he saw the figure fall into the depths without a sound. Not that it would carry over the sound of that rifle. She missed the next shot, and swore under her breath, tapping his shoulder to get him to follow her to a new position before they were spotted. She hunched in the deep shade of a pre-war cargo truck and she looked down her sights to find her next target.

“There’s a guy in power armor down there,” she murmured. “Fuck.”

“Save him for last. If we need to, we’ll go in guns blazing. As long as he’s the last one, we should be able to take’im.”

“Sounds like a plan,” she said. She aimed at a turret and he saw the small explosion as it burst into flames. She reloaded before she started picking off straggling figures and other turrets. Twice more they moved to new positions after she’d missed, each time keeping to the shadows, but circling ever closer to the quarry itself. A strangeness in the air was almost palpable. He could almost smell it. Nora ignored it after a quick shudder and went back to her meticulous shooting, winnowing the now panicking raiders.

When she’d shot down everyone she could readily see they began the long trek down the quarry sides to the bottom, where she seemed to know they had Deirdre. “She’ll be inside,” she said softly.

“How do you know?”

“I’ve been here before. The Pip-Boy has already mapped it out and I see a marker that’s her location.”

“Anything that thing can’t do?”

“Not much.” She was crouched down, taking advantage of the wide lip of the path to keep herself hidden from view below and he followed. He felt useless in a fight like this; distance was not his forte. But he could keep watch and point out targets she couldn’t see while she was using her scope, and keep anyone from sneaking up on them. They wound their way to the bottom and only the raider in power armor was left.

Nora swapped out weapons, choosing this time to use a shotgun he didn’t know she even had. A short dagger had been attached to the end and it carried a drum magazine, giving her the advantage of more numerous shots. “Ready?”

“Ready,” he confirmed and followed her at a run at the guy. The power armor was spiked and cobbled together and pieces of it flew off as she hit him again and again with her shotgun. She took a blast from his automatic assault rifle in her chestplate and it threw her off balance, making her stumble, but he was right there to pick up the slack, drawing the raider’s attention away from her. He hadn’t seen blood well on her, so he didn’t stop to worry.

It took time. Nora didn’t get a clear shot on the guy until the helmet broke off, exposing his face. He was dark with wild eyes, his lips stretched in what could conceivably be called a smile if not for the fact that the gleam on his teeth seemed _wrong_ , and the look in his eyes was almost blank. Not with terror, but with madness.

“I am a worthy sacrifice!” the raider shouted as Nora bore down on him, her shotgun going off practically in his face, obliterating the insane smile amid a shower of gore.

“Guh,” Nora grunted as they stood in the center of the quarry, where the sun didn’t even reach yet. A fire burned nearby, and a pile of bodies was stacked next to it, a grim silent reminder that raiders were never sane to begin with and these were particularly crazy. She wiped away the bits of brains that had hit her from her final shot. “Gross.”

“You all right, Sunshine? I saw you take that hit.”

“I’m fine.” He heard a hiss and saw a spent stimpak leave her hands. “I’m all right,” she insisted. He just nodded. _Stubborn to the last_.

“Where to?”

“This way,” she said, pointing to a narrow corridor carved into the face of the rock. At the end of a tunnel was a door. She led the way through it and warned him to be careful, pointing out a tripwire hidden by a blinding spotlight. “Let me.”

She cut the wire, and then descended into the shadow of the spotlight to disarm a gun trap too, tucking the pipe pistol into her pack almost absently, keeping an eye out for any more raiders. Around a corner she found them. There were only two and quickly dispatched between them. Then they just needed to find Deirdre. The ground rumbled around them suddenly, and Hancock started. Dust showered down on them and there was a sound like growling. Nora said nothing and went on looking.

 _What kind of horror is this place hiding?_ he thought to himself.

“Up here,” they heard from up a short flight of carved stairs. Behind iron bars was Deirdre, kneeling on the floor with her hand behind her back.

“Easy now, we’ve got you,” Nora said, picking the lock on the makeshift cell and releasing her friend’s hands from their bonds. The ghoul sobbed onto her shoulder for a minute and even though the position must have been cramped on her already tired legs, Nora held her without complaint.

“Oh my God, Nor…thank you.”

“Come on, let’s get you out of here.”

They snuck out the way they’d come in, taking care to make no noise since Nora indicated there were more raiders down below and stepped out into the sunshine. They climbed back up the winding paths cut from the stone, seeing no one, hearing no other voices real or imagined. But it wasn’t until the quarry was out of sight behind them that Nora relaxed the tension in her body, or took a deep breath.

“Well, that went well,” she said almost cheerfully.

“Damn, Vaultsicle. I am in awe,” Hancock said.

She grinned at him. “Thanks, love.”

Together they got Deirdre – who was not injured but had been badly shaken up and was exhausted – back to the Slog, where Wiseman greeted them all with such relief in his face that Nora decided they should stay a while, just until everyone felt safe again. Herself included, it seemed.

“Do you mind?” she asked.

“I don’t mind at all,” he replied. If they were going to take a vacation somewhere, this was right where he wanted to be.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I both love and hate Dunwich Borers. I love the nod to HP Lovecraft, and I love the eerie ambiance and otherworldly aspect of it. Getting Kremvh’s Tooth is one of the first things I do once I get this far east in my playthroughs. That being said…I hate the raider survivalists. I hate that every single blasted one of them is armed with an assault rifle. I almost never go in there without power armor, although I have managed it in the way described here. Once. Thank heavens for .50 caliber rounds (and chems)!
> 
> *Edit* I just want to say a great big thank you for all the love I have received with this work. In 9 chapters and in just one month there have been over a thousand hits and 80 kudos and lots of wonderful comments. Thank you all from the bottom of my heart. It means so much to me that you are enjoying these two as much as I do.


	10. Butcher, Baker

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Nora goes off to Far Harbor and Hancock gets a lesson in baking.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> “Third time’s the charm,” Daisy said as they broke open the steaming loaf sitting at her table above her shop front, drinking whiskey from cracked coffee cups. It wasn’t light and airy the way she described pre-war bread, but it had a good flavor, a nice crumb and buttered easily. They ate the whole thing in a sitting and she told him he was ready to try it at home.

“I wish I could go with you,” Hancock said as Nora and Nick loaded packs and supplies onto the remarkably sturdy boat Kenji Nakano told them to take for their trip up north.

“I know, love,” she replied. “If you don’t want me to go…”

“No, you should. Stretch your legs a bit, take a break from being General Howard.” She smiled ruefully.

He and Nora had only just made it back to Sanctuary Hills for a quick check in with Preston and the Minutemen when she’d gotten the message from Ellie on her Pip-Boy. Nick had gotten word about a missing person’s case and he wanted her help with it. So off to the Nakano residence they’d gone, stopping overnight at a rundown cottage with no roof after they’d cleared out the raiders living there.

“Would make a good settlement,” Nora had mused. “Maybe when I get back.”

“Do you ever stop?” he had replied, chuckling at her mocking frown. Then she sighed, acknowledging defeat.

“No, I guess I don’t.”

Now, with the boat loaded, and the clues leading to a distant shore, he could only stand by and watch her go without him. There was simply no way he could go along; he had too much to do with summer approaching. And Nora felt like she owed Nick something after all the work he’d done to track down Kellogg and her son. He knew she was processing the information that her son was no longer a baby, too. She was still trying to figure out how to get through the Glowing Sea, and what she was going to do once she managed to get inside the Institute. There was too much on her plate, and she could use a break from it, even if it meant being apart.

“I’ll miss you,” he said.

“I know,” she said, standing on the pier with him as Nick went over the radio frequency they’d picked up to make sure they were going the right way. “I’ll try to get word to you when we get back.”

“I’ll keep an ear to the ground, but not literally, since that would be weird.” She giggled. “Hey, I know this means a lot to Nick. I know he’s happy you’re going. You two make a good team.”

“You’re still my one and only love,” she teased, the lights in her green eyes matching the color of the wavy grass that grew there at the edge of the Commonwealth. “I just hope we won’t be gone too long.”

“Nora? Tide and time wait for no man,” Nick called from the cockpit. She sighed.

“All right, Nick.” She threaded her fingers in his one more time and looked into his face like she was memorizing it. “I’ll be back, love. I promise.”

“I’ll hold you to it.” He kissed her hard and watched her get into the boat. He waved them off and stood until the boat was no longer in sight.

He went back to Goodneighbor by a roundabout route, scouring every diner, every Slocums Joe’s, even the Gwinett Brewery and Restaurant down by the Castle, looking for old recipes. He finally lucked out in a section of the Public Library that hadn’t been destroyed by the super mutants. He’d been wanting to do something special for Nora ever since that first day, when she confessed to missing bread. As they’d grown closer he knew he wanted it to be a surprise. But he had no idea what he was doing, and he needed help. The first face he saw when he finally opened the gate to his town was Daisy.

“Well, well, Mayor Hancock. Fancy seeing you here,” the old ghoul remarked as he strode up to her shop. “Where’s Nora?”

“On a case with Nick. Some far flung place called Far Harbor.”

“She’s in Maine?” Daisy sounded rather incredulous. “How’d they get there?”

“By boat.”

“Well, wonders never cease,” Daisy said. “What can I do for my favorite Mayor?”

“I need some help making bread.”

“Come again?”

“Nora misses bread. Now I know getting some yeast around here ain’t gonna happen, but I came across this…” He held out the treasure he’d found in the library. _Baking With Beer_ the title page read.

“You want to make her bread…with beer?” Daisy said, and she sounded like she wanted to laugh. “Damn, John, how far gone are you?” He managed to look sheepish but happy at the same time and Daisy cupped his cheek in her hand. “All right, I’ll help you. You got a recipe in mind, I take it?”

“Yeah, there’s one that looks pretty simple. Just a few ingredients. One might be hard to get though.”

“Hmm, sugar I’ll bet.”

“How’d you know?”

“You certainly came to the right person,” she joked. “I have not made bread in…well, since before the war. But I can remember how.” She flipped through the book with care, turning the pages slowly so the cracked spine didn’t break entirely. She found the page he’d marked and looked over the recipe. “All right, I know where we can get the butter. Brahmin milk ain’t much to look at, but it has the right fat content nonetheless.  You can use baking soda instead of baking powder, you just use less of it. And I think I know where I can get the sugar.”

“How long do you think it will take?” Hancock asked.

“A week, maybe. I’ll get a message through to my caravan today, see what they can come up with. Might be expensive,” she warned.

“I know. But it’s gonna be worth it.” Her face softened with a sort of quiet satisfaction. Hancock rarely let down his guard, but Daisy was one of his best friends, almost a maternal figure, and he was comfortable with the idea of her knowing just how much he loved Nora. And it was evident that she approved, which made him happy too.

“All right, I’ll let you know when I get the shipment in.”

“Thanks, Daisy, you’re the best.”

“Yeah, I know.”

While he waited for the sugar to come in – Daisy had made contact with a caravan all the way in the Capital Wasteland for it – he went back to Sanctuary Hills with MacCready, who had arrived in Goodneighbor after his long journey to get his son Duncan. The toddler was a happy miniature version of Mac, who in his first ten minutes inside the town had wrapped nearly everyone around his little finger, except maybe KLEO, but that was debatable too, since she didn’t kick him out of her shop when he went in to explore.

“Mac, how are ya, ya young pup?” Hancock greeted him.

“Shi…crap, do you have to call me that?” the ex-Gunner said with a scowl.

“You should be used to it by now, kid.”

MacCready sighed. “Doesn’t mean I have to like it.”

“I have a serious question for you, Mac,” Hancock asked him as they stood in the central courtyard, keeping an eye on Duncan as he played. Daisy had given him a toy car and the boy was racing it all over the uneven cobblestones with abandon.

“Yeah, what’s that?”

“Nora, being pre-war, has a problem with food here. We need to find a way to get her to eat better. Any ideas?”

“You noticed that too, huh?” MacCready chewed his lip as he thought. “We ate a lot of Brahmin on the road when we traveled together. She said she could stand the taste of it because it reminded her of beef. And she ate a lot of pre-packaged stuff, but it always made her sick to her stomach.”

“The rads. She has no resistance to them.”

“I guess we don’t think about the stuff we eat, huh?”

“No, I guess not. She ain’t that into bugs, and flatly refuses to eat dog.”

“Can’t say I blame her there. We always had them in Little Lamplight. I won’t eat them either.”

“I never knew that about you, Mac.” The young mercenary looked sheepish. He never had liked letting out secrets from his past. He let it go and got back on the subject. “She would probably like radstag.”

“Probably. I dunno, Hancock. I’d need to think about it.”

“Do that. I hate to see her wasting away because she won’t eat.”

“Yeah, we need her too much.” Mac cleared his throat self-consciously and took off to chase his son. Hancock laughed. He’d grown accustomed to the idea that everyone who met her was in love with her. And he was all right with it, knowing that he was the only one she loved back.

He decided to accompany the young father and son back to Sanctuary Hills the next morning after they’d rested at the Rexford. Mac could use a hand on the trip, if for no other reason than it was hard enough traveling through the Commonwealth, and doubly so with a young child in tow. He ended up spending a pleasant evening in Sanctuary Hills, sitting with Mac and Garvey at the bar late that night, joined by Mama Murphy in her purple slippers and fortune teller’s outfit. She eyed him up and down and then settled herself right next to him as the lights grew low and the music started playing.

“She’ll be back to you soon,” Mama Murphy said suddenly, her eyes wide and knowing. “Her heart isn’t broken anymore. Your gift will be loved more for being by your hand than for its worth.” He started. There was no way this old woman knew what he had planned, yet she looked at him as if she could already see flour under his nails. She cackled at his expression and patted his knee. “You listen to ol’Mama Murphy, young man. Some storms have death in them, for all but you and your kind. Keep her sheltered and safe, and she’ll always come back to you.”

“Mama Murphy, have you been taking Mentats again?” Garvey asked sharply, as if he was disappointed.

“Oh Preston,” she sighed, a long suffering sound and Hancock guessed this was an argument of some length. “It was Jet this time. Jet makes the world crawl until I can see into the blackest depths.” She was looking at Hancock as she spoke and he blinked his blackened eyes at her, not knowing how to respond. He was overly conscious of the Jet he had in his pocket. He’d met others with the Sight before; it was always a strange experience. “A long life stretches ahead of you, John McDonough. For her too. Spend it wisely.”

She coughed then and wheezed and Garvey escorted her back to her home with a dark look in his eyes and a grumble in his voice. Hancock was grateful no one else seemed to have noticed her use of his given name, since he didn’t like being associated with it anymore. He wanted to laugh at the Minuteman’s scowl as he led the seer away, but found that he couldn’t. The Sight was hardly ever wrong, even if it was in unexpected ways.

 _She’ll be back_ , he thought to himself, not that he was in any doubt. _A long life, huh? Better start making plans for it_.

***

Two pounds of sugar came in on Daisy’s caravan and cost him nearly a thousand caps. Expensive, indeed. They got to work on his bread that day. The first one was a total disaster to his mind. It didn’t resemble anything like what he knew bread was supposed to look like based on pictures he’d seen in books. But Daisy pronounced it a good start. They’d had to use a cake pan to bake it in because the type of square pan used for loaves just weren’t available. It was sort of lumpy and uneven with a crumbly texture that meant buttering it was nearly impossible. But it tasted pretty good, he had to admit. Daisy found an old pot that had lost its handle some years ago, and handed it to him with a gleam in her eye.

“Try again,” she commanded. A challenge.

The second batch came out better, more evenly baked, better texture. “Needs more salt,” she said this time, and since salt was readily available living so near the sea, he got to work on a third one.

“Third time’s the charm,” Daisy said as they broke open the steaming loaf sitting at her table above her shop front, drinking whiskey from cracked coffee cups. It wasn’t light and airy the way she described pre-war bread, but it had a good flavor, a nice crumb and buttered easily. They ate the whole thing in a sitting and she told him he was ready to try it at home. The process fascinated him now, and he had all sorts of ideas for how to improve it, and maybe how to get wild yeast to grow so he could try something more complex that would require kneading.

Now all he needed was Nora.

On a rainy evening Hancock heard the front door of the State House open quietly. It was mid-August, and the heat was oppressive. Nora had been gone six weeks, although he knew she was around. The rumor mill had been working overtime. He sat on his sofa in just his pants, no shirt, hat or boots. He leaned forward, paperwork in front of him, and tried not to think about how hot he was. This was the one time of year he hated being a ghoul. Some sweat would be good about now. He could hear the sounds of raucous parties happening without him down on the street; a celebration of some kind or other. He had no interest. Going out meant clothes, and only one set of clothes would be accepted by the residents of Goodneighbor for their Mayor. It was too hot for velvet.

He chuckled to himself. At one time he’d been a carefree playboy, never thinking past the next high, the next partner, the next good time. He’d settled down somewhere, but it wasn’t an unpleasant feeling. He focused on his work. The Mentats he’d taken were driving him to finish the proposal for trade, this time with Hangman’s Alley. They didn’t have much to offer other than armor and junk, but remembered building the multilevel structures with his own hands. He wondered if Nora had put them up to sending him this.

He heard the footsteps on the stairs but didn’t look up, he was so intent on his work. It was probably just Fahrenheit returning after her check on the warehouse to make sure it was still secure. Bobbi No-Nose had managed to tunnel from directly under her house, not two streets from the State House. He took no chances with security now and had Fahr check periodically to make sure no one else was getting in. He’d taken possession of No-Nose’s house and property, but that didn’t mean someone else might not get the same idea.

“Hey, Hancock,” purred a low voice that ran like warm water down his back.

His head shot up and he took in Nora, wearing a dark tank top with shorts it looked like she made herself from a loose pair of jeans cut off at mid-thigh, showing off her scar. She wore dusty boots he’d never seen before, high ones that laced up to her knees like the Gunners wore, and her hair was pulled back in a flowing pony tail to rest over her shoulder, dripping from the rain. Her Pip-Boy glowed softly on her wrist, uncovered by any sleeves or armor.

“Well, look who it is,” he drawled as he leaned back against the sofa cushions. Sudden anticipation coiled in his belly, a slow heat rising until it burned. He hadn’t even hit the Jet. “How was Maine?”

“Not nearly as hot as here,” she said, wiping the back of her neck. She had her backpack slung over a shoulder and she let it drop to the floor. Predictably it clanked, and it looked like it was quite full. That meant she’d come straight to the State House without seeing Daisy first. She rolled her shoulders, neck and arms and he was treated to a nice view of her assets as she stretched out the kinks. “Glad to be home, though. That Fog can kiss my ass.”

“Fog?” he asked, pulling himself out of his visual inspection to focus on her words.

“Yeah, the whole island is covered in this low lying mist that’s full of rads. That shit plays tricks on your mind, not to mention it kept making me sick. I’ve never spent so much time in a power suit. The only time I could walk around without it was in Acadia.”

“So it was more than just a missing person’s case?”

“Yeah...” He watched as she sat on the floor in the open doorway and began unlacing her boots. “There is a whole city of synths up there. Plus a contingent of Children of Atom, and boy are they nuts. And then there were the ‘normal’ people of Far Harbor, who themselves are a little off their rockers.” She sighed with relief when she was able to push the boots off her feet, stripping her socks off with them.

She looked healthier, like she’d put on weight. Her collarbones didn’t stand out so prominently and her arms were toned and sleek, the muscles bunching under her skin. Even her legs looked corded and hard. His Vaultsicle had more than acclimatized to her new world and it had better watch out. She got up in one smooth motion and came into the office proper, her green eyes glowing with happiness at seeing him.

“We found the missing girl, saved the island and made a peace treaty between the three factions,” she said brightly, although he sensed something under her words that she wasn’t quite ready to discuss. Not that it mattered; she was here, and he wasn’t going to waste time with questions when he could be touching her. She pushed his hands aside, scattering his papers, and climbed into his lap. He draped his warms loosely around her hips and grinned.

“Miss me?” he asked.

“Every moment of every day,” she replied, stroking his face with her fingertips. “I couldn’t wait to get back to you.” She leaned forward to kiss him, running her hands over the scarred, leathery skin of his shoulders and back. She pressed herself as close as she could, as if she wanted to crawl right into him. His arms came tight around her ribcage, imprisoning her in his grasp. He was hard as a rock under her hips, and knew she could tell by the way she thrust against him. “Hancock,” she whispered when she was done kissing him. “I want you right now.”

“Hmm, you have too many clothes on.” She pushed away from him and stood up, unsnapping the jean shorts and letting them fall to the floor. With her thumbs she snagged the edges of her underwear, but he stopped her. “Let me.”

He edged forward on the sofa, so his face was right at the level of her hips. She hummed low, just under her breath, as his mouth touched the skin exposed between the bottom of the tank top and the elastic of her underwear. She rested her hands on his shoulders so she was balanced as he took her apart his with lips and tongue. Her sweat was salty but her skin was sweet. With his teeth he pulled at the skimpy scrap of cloth covering her, laying more of her bare to his touch. His hands skimmed over her ass, keeping her right where he wanted her. Abruptly he folded his fingers into the material of her underwear and pulled straight down, leaving it to pool at her feet. She stepped out of the discarded panties and he pulled her towards his mouth. Her head dropped back onto her neck as he licked her just once with his tongue, slowly, so slowly. Her eyes were closed. He leaned back to look at her while he unbuttoned his pants, freeing himself from the confines. With one hand on each leg, he guided her back onto his lap, until she was straddling him again and his cock was between them, hot and hard.

“Nora,” he said reverently. His fingers stroked down her bare hips and thighs, tracing the scars and reveling in her smoothness. “Sit up higher.” She obligingly moved her hips and he shifted himself so his cock was under her body. He let her slide onto him slowly.

As desperate as they were for each other, there was no rush now that she was home. She let out a gasping breath, almost hissing in pleasure. When her pelvic bones hit his, he snaked his arms up behind her back to grasp her shoulders from behind and pulled her down, seating himself even deeper inside her. He could feel her throb around him and thought he might die. It would have been worth it. She was wet and tight and so, so hot. It was better than any feeling in the world. Better than rads. Better than chems. It was better than the first time when he had been so careful not to hurt her after her long celibacy, when she’d been on edge and worried about things neither could fix.

He rocked into her core, there on the edge of the sofa, her legs wrapped around him and her blunt nails digging into his back and she fought to reach her climax. He bucked in her and she hummed, a delicious little sound. He lifted her by the hips so he was nearly fully out of her body, then let her sink back onto him again, enjoying the slide and press of her slippery body around him. He did it again and again, each time going a little deeper, a little faster, a little harder. She was panting now, her breath coming in jerks and fits. He let his hands rove over her body, cupping her breasts, tugging at the straps of her tank top to bare her skin for his mouth before he just pulled the whole thing off, throwing it onto the coffee table. He stroked her back and down to her legs, never ceasing his movement inside her. She was tighter and he knew she was close to coming.

She was moving with him, riding him, her hands braced on his shoulders to keep her upright and where she wanted to be. She slammed herself down on his cock and threw back her head and shouted as she came. The constant throb and pull of her milked his cock and he felt himself beginning his own climax. He curved up inside her, harder than before, hitting all the right spots and he came so hard he saw spots dance before his eyes. She curled around him, her head resting on top of his, her arms loose around his back. When he could breathe again, he tucked his hands under her butt and stood up, not even unseating himself from her body. He walked with her clinging to him to the bedroom and fell on her on the bed. She thought they were done? Oh, they were not done.

***

He woke like a shot several hours later. He hadn’t asked her if she’d taken Rad-X. She was still sound asleep, her arm outflung like a carefree child. They’d worn each other out pretty thoroughly. _Worth it_ , he thought. _So worth it_.

He looked at her Pip-Boy, guessing it could tell him how many rads she’d taken since it had a built in Geiger counter. He flicked through the menus, finally finding what he was looking for. He frowned; her levels were fairly high. He didn’t normally worry about these things as most people these days were born with some level of immunity, but she had none. She’d fucked him senseless over and over, with no thought to the serious consequences. Lucky for her, he _had_ thought about what it was going to be like to have a human girlfriend who had never had to deal with high amounts of rads from her boyfriend’s bodily fluids. She was lucky indeed that he wasn’t a normal ghoul, and the levels he gave off were much lower than his fallout formed peers.

He slipped quietly from the bed and found the stash of radiation chems he’d been keeping. He managed to inject the RadAway into her arm without waking her and watched the counter on the Pip-Boy slowly decrease as the scrubber did its work, soaking up the rads in her body, repairing any damage they might have done. He would be careful not to be that careless again. He put the bottle of Rad-X within easy reach of the bed.

She would probably keep sleeping for a long time, given what he knew of her habit of running herself ragged, and he snuck out to his office where his cook station was, cracking a beer on the way and taking stock of his precious supply of sugar. It didn’t take him long to prepare a batter and pour it into the pot with no handle. He pushed open the windows in the office, letting in some of the predawn coolness. He snagged some pants and pulled them on but didn’t both to button them as he worked. The rain had stopped, leaving everything washed clean but still wet. The heat had broken and it was cool and comfortable. While he waited for the bread to bake he told the Triggermen posted at every level of the State House that he was not seeing anyone today. All requests were to be rerouted to Fahrenheit. They grinned at him and he knew they’d seen Nora arrive last night. They gladly repositioned themselves outside the doors so their Mayor could go off duty.

He took out the steaming round loaf of bread from the oven less than an hour later. She was still asleep when he went back to her, and he set the bread on the bedside table and watched her sleep, curling up next to her, head braced on his hand. He tugged the spent bag of RadAway from her arm gently. Her light skin was flushed and pink and for the first time he didn’t miss shaving. Her skin was too sensitive for beard burn. He laughed at himself for thinking of it, wondering where the thought had come from. It wasn’t like him at all to remember human things like that. Her breathing changed and he could tell she was waking up. He wondered if she could smell the bread. Her eyes opened and saw him watching her and her lips curved into a sleepy, satisfied smile.

“Don’t mind me,” he said, tucking her hair behind her ear. “Just admiring the view.”

“Is it morning?”

“Not quite.” The light was dim, only the glow from a lantern threw deep shadows on the walls. The rest was gray and hazy. It was like being in a cave.

“Hancock, what am I smelling?” He grinned. “What did you do?” She sounded amused and startled in the most gratifying way. She sat up and looked over his shoulder at the bedside table. He, on the other hand, took a mouthful of breast since it was conveniently in his face. Her nipple puckered up in his mouth and she squealed. He laughed and the vibration of it against her skin made her shudder. “Let go of me and tell me how you…?”

He pushed her flat on the bed. “Not so fast, Sunshine. You gotta pay the toll.”

She smiled and huffed in mock anger. “What toll? You never said anything about a…”

He slid down the bed, trailing his tongue over her skin. She was warm and rosy from being in his bed and she smelled like divinity and sex as he worked his way down her body. “So, a ghoul walks into a bar,” he said lightly, as if he wasn’t aware of her squirming and jumping under him. “Bartender says, hey, we don’t serve ghouls here. The ghoul says, that’s fine…” And he looked up into her eyes in the predawn gloom, seeing her smiling at his silliness. “Is the human fresh?”

He dropped his head down between her legs, coaxing up every last bit of moisture with his tongue, until she was shaking with her need. Just before she came, he rose over her and entered her smoothly, pushing her hips up high so her ass was basically sitting on his thighs, her legs spread as wide as they could go. He was so deep inside her she could barely breathe. She squeezed his cock so tight it almost hurt.

“The toll is…this…” he panted out. He leaned over and grabbed both the bottle and the loaf. He dropped a Rad-X in her mouth, with a warning glance to not forget again. She giggled. “And the reward is this.” He broke off a piece of the still warm bread and fed it to her. Her eyes closed as the warm bread melted in her mouth. He spread her wide and stroked her. She had already come once, but it was building again and under his fingers she quivered and shook. He kept feeding her the bread with his other hand, and pumped into her in time. Eventually she pushed the bread away and pulled him closer to her, forcing him to brace himself on his hands. She tilted up her hips to give him greater access and dug her nails into his ass, drawing him closer still.

“Faster, John…faster…” It put him over the edge and he spilled into her with a flood, groaning aloud and pressed so deep he bottomed out against her womb. She was climaxing around him again, spasming and clenching on his cock. It was so good. How could it be so good? He drew her legs down and settled between them more comfortably, his head on her heartbeat. She stroked his shoulders and back, soothing away the gouges she’d made in his bumpy skin.

“Thank you for the bread. I’ll ask you later how you managed it.”

“All right,” he sighed, so perfectly content and happy he could die in that moment and never regret it.

***

“So, I thought we’d go down to the Rail, let everyone know I haven’t killed you yet,” he said after she’d bathed off all the sweat and grime and sex of the last twenty four hours. She grinned and looked like she had something up her proverbial sleeve. “What?”

“I have the perfect dress.”

“Now this I gotta see.” He lounged against the wall and watched her walk across the room, gloriously naked. He drank in the sight of her lean back as she squatted at her pack, digging something out of it. She’d pulled her hair to one side so it didn’t drip on her things, her feet flat on the floor, her legs folded up gracefully, butt cheeks to heels. When she stood up she was holding a shimmery red dress, very like the one Mags always wore, with a pair of black shoes.

“What do you think?”

“I think it will look great on the floor.”

“You’re all laughs,” she snorted at him. “But really though, what do you think?”

He pushed away from the wall and slipped his hands around her waist, bending close to kiss her. “I think you could make rags look good. Go put it on and I’ll take you out for a drink.”

Of course the bar was full. It was another warm, sultry night with nothing better to do. It was cooler in the Rail. The Mayor and his General were warmly greeted with cheers and Charlie broke open a bottle he’d apparently been saving for a special occasion. Nora sat at the bar in her red dress and Hancock left his hand on the small of her back, tracing small circles on her. He didn’t care if anyone saw. And the way she leaned into his touch told him that she didn’t either. He saw faces he recognized from other times he’d left the bar with someone, but none of them could hold a candle to his Vaultsicle. He had eyes only for her. His ‘touring’ days were over.

“I ‘eard tell of some nasty business up north, missy,” Charlie said as he hovered behind the bar, wiping down glasses. “Know anyfing about it?”

“Lots, Charlie. What did you want to know?”

“Is there really a city of synths?” The old Mr. Handy sounded surprised.

“There is. There are also whacked out wildlife, insane fishermen and the Children of Atom.”

“What did you think of them?” Hancock asked under her ear, his lips tickling her. She curved her neck so he could reach and he wondered how long he could stand it before he dragged her off again.

“They have a death wish. There was a whole ship of them, madder than hatters.”

“No idea what that means, but I’ll take it you thought they were crazy.”

“Uh huh. I could take the rad worshipping thing if it didn’t turn them all into zonked out hippies. They have a mean streak, too.”

“They do indeed. Zeal breeds insanity.”

“Like the Brotherhood.”

“I thought I heard a rumor about a little General of the Minutemen at the Cambridge Police Station. How was it?”

“Fine. Honestly, it was just some ferals. I don’t know why they needed help. I did some other work with them too. Helped the Paladin get some tech from ArcJet Systems. He asked me to join them.” Hancock paused in lifting his drink, unsure how to phrase his next question. She grinned at his expression and put her hand on his cheek. “Don’t worry, my love. There’s no way I could join such a bigoted group of assholes. Danse was upset, of course, that I’d rather stay a ‘wandering mercenary’ in his words, but no. I’m not joining the Brotherhood of Steel. Not unless they have something I can’t get any other way. Besides, I already have my hands full with the Minutemen.”

“I’m glad.” There was a disturbance as a rush of people came down the stairs into the Rail.

“Radstorm,” they chorused. Nora looked at Hancock askance, as if she could see the wanting in his eyes to be in the storm.

“Wanna go back up?” she whispered, her lips against his ear now.

“Yes,” he said, not bothering to hide it.

“Got any more Rad-X?”

“Of course.” They hopped down from the bar and made their way to the hidden stairs, leaving the crowds to wait out the storm in relative safety. “Why do you ask?”

“I love radstorms. There’s something so primal and beautiful about them.”

“Oh, Nora, how did this ghoul get so lucky?”

“Must be your charm.”

“Hmm.”

When they reached the upper floor of the State House, he dropped his frockcoat and flag sash across a chair and handed her the bottle of Rad-X. She took one and went out on the balcony to watch. She leaned on the railing, tipping her head back so she could see the sky between the buildings. He leaned on the doorframe, watching her. Each bolt of atomic energy passed through him like a heatwave, lighting up the night in brilliant green, the following thunder snaking across the sky with a distinctly sparking sound. He felt re-energized with each blast, and he felt something more watching his love as she gazed at the sky, curled backwards in such a way that made her ass stick out like an invitation for his hands. The streets were empty; anyone not ghoul or robotic had sought safety from the storm.

He stood behind her, his mouth moving across the back of her neck and down her shoulder, pushing the narrow straps down her arm. He gathered up handfuls of the red dress, pulling it up higher over her legs until he could reach beneath, stroking her bare flesh with his fingers. She leaned back into him, snaking an arm behind her to grab at the back of his head.

“No panties? You lewd little thing,” he whispered. She only moaned.

He slipped his longest finger into her from behind. With his other hand he reached under the front of the dress and touched her clit, slow strokes that made her buck and writhe. The dress flowed over his wrists and he had her captured, pinioned, by her own pleasure. The radstorm raged around them as he brought her to peak and she shouted out loud to the angry sky and empty streets, her voice echoing off the building across the way. He let go of her long enough to unbutton his pants and let them fall low on his hips, freeing his cock and pressing up against her from behind.

“Yes,” she whispered. An arc of atomic lightning streaked across the sky and lit up her face in the darkness. She was rapturous. He pulled her dress up again, sliding his length between her legs and she bent forward slightly, allowing him access while still watching the storm. He slid into her slowly, adjusting for the angle so he didn’t hurt her. She closed around him like a fist and he hissed in pleasure, nearly climaxing in that moment. With a hard thrust he slammed home to the hilt and she gasped, her head thrown back, spine arched, her beautiful hair falling around her shoulders as the impact of his entry knocked the pretty hairstyle she’d managed off its perch. He wrapped the locks around his wrist, grabbing the back of her head and pulling – not hard, not enough to be painful, just a firm tug. She clenched on him and he groaned.

“So good,” he said in her ear over the crackling thunder. “It’s always so good.”

“Yes,” she gasped out, backing into him with every thrust. He kept her pinned there, impaled on his cock, fist in her hair, fingers of his other hand stroking her to new heights, feasting on her neck and shoulders with teeth and tongue. Her knuckles turned white as she grasped the railing of the balcony for balance, her feet spread apart as he leaned her forward, bowed over her bent body like a spring. And he felt sublime. Goodneighbor at his feet, the woman he adored bucking against him as he made love to her, the radstorm all around them…

He pushed himself to the limit inside her, feeling her throb around him, coming again. He let his own orgasm pound through him and emptied his very soul into her body.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the recipe for the bread Hancock makes with Daisy. It can be made in a loaf pan or even a coffee can.
> 
> 3 cups all-purpose flour  
> 1/2 cup brown sugar  
> 2 tablespoons baking powder  
> 1 teaspoon salt  
> 1 bottle (12 ounces) beer  
> 1/2 cup (1 stick) unsalted butter, melted, and divided
> 
> 1\. Preheat the oven to 350 degrees F. Lightly coat a 9x 5x 3-inch loaf pan with nonstick cooking spray.  
> 2\. In a large bowl, whisk together the flour, sugar, baking powder, and salt. Using a wooden spoon, stir in the beer and 3/4 of the melted butter until just combined. Spoon the batter evenly into the pan and drizzle the remaining 1/4 of the butter over the top.  
> 3\. Bake for 55 minutes or until the top is golden and a tooth pick (or long skewer) inserted in the middle comes out clean. Slice and serve immediately.


	11. Desolate, Desecrate

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Hancock and Nora enter the Glowing Sea.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> “Nate was a soldier,” she said suddenly. “He was in the 108th Infantry during the war, and had only been home a few weeks before the bombs fell. He told me stories about how desolate a battlefield looked after a fight, how the ground itself seemed to be injured and torn. I never imagined…” She turned to him in her suit. “I never thought it would look like this.”
> 
> “It’s gonna be worse before it gets better, Nora. This place…it’s all burned up and twisted. Like lava came through.”
> 
> “Like the end of the world.”

“I’m never gonna get this to work,” Nora complained, throwing down her wrenches and pliers. “Ugh!”

“You need a chem break?” Hancock asked smoothly, walking around the side of the Red Rocket to the power armor station to where she was working on the helmet of her T-60 suit.

“Not sure what good that’ll do, love, but thanks for offering.”

“Take these, they make your brain go crazy,” he said, handing her a tin of Mentats.

She sighed. “I know what they do, Hancock, you take them every day. Not sure why, you’re already smarter than me on my best day. And it’s not like I’ve never taken them myself.”

“I like to feel intellectual. And these are berry. They got extra oomph.” He watched her swallow a couple pills. He knew she didn’t take a lot of chems and the fact that she trusted him enough to take something from his hand made parts of him go crazy too. He couldn’t even explain it, but he had a sudden urge to drag her off and show her just how crazy she’d made him.

“This is your brain,” she muttered under her breath. “This is your brain on drugs.”

“What?”

“Nothing.” She closed her eyes, letting the chems do their job and before he could even make good on his intentions, she’d picked up the pliers again and was off, pulling wiring and circuitry out of the helmet and reorganizing it so it did something different.

They’d been at the Red Rocket for two days, and she’d been working nonstop on the suit. He barely got to see her naked at all, except for when she fell into the cot she’d put in the office, exhausted. She hadn’t even wanted to go home and rest; she just wanted to get the suit finished. She had a burning desire now to get moving, get to the Glowing Sea and find Dr. Virgil, get the information she needed to find her son. She felt like she’d wasted enough time. It was admirable and he couldn’t in good conscience take that away from her for his own selfish wants. There would be time enough when she was done.

“I’m never going to be able to watch another radstorm without thinking of the other night,” she said as she worked.

“Good.” She paused in her tinkering and looked at him. He began working on his own armor at the nearby anvil and he glanced over at her, smiling. “I know I said it before, but all that karma crap is bullshit, Sunshine. No one like me ever deserved someone like you.”

“It’s not about deserving, Hancock.”

“Sometimes it is, but I know what you’re saying. You’re the best thing I got, and I don’t want to fuck it up.”

“Where’s this coming from, love?”

“You got a lot on your plate. I don’t want to add to it if it’s too much.”

“It’s not. You ground me. You give me something to look forward to. Don’t ever doubt that.”

“All right.” He went back to fitting the breastplate of the armor he was planning to wear. The Glowing Sea was no place for antique frockcoats and ruffled shirts. He wore road leathers, and had found a full set of combat armor from Nora’s extras. Now all he needed to do was make it fit him comfortably and he’d be as decked out as he could without being in power armor himself.

The sun was sinking into the west when she finally finished working on the helmet. “So, what does it do?” he asked.

“It should use infrared to highlight living things,” she said, checking the seals one more time. “You say it’s like a radstorm all the time there. I’ll never see what’s coming if it’s hidden in a green haze.”

“True enough.” He had finished fitting all the pieces of armor to his smaller body size. Whoever she’d scavved this off of had been bigger than him by a lot. His little Vaultsicle was quite the force to be reckoned with and no mistake. She’d even taken the guy’s hat, a tight fitting military style cap that she said looked good on him.

“So you think we should head to the crater first?”

“If anyone passed into the Glowing Sea, the Children of Atom would know. They’re the only people living there. I know it means dealing with their crazy asses, but I can’t think of a better way. And we can’t afford to just wander around. It’s a dangerous place, more so for you with the constant rads. Even if we find shelter in places, there will still be low levels of radiation. The storms that come up out of there carry a fair amount of energy, but…”

“But the Sea itself is gonna be constant bombardment?”

“Yeah.” She looked nervous and he wished he could make it better. This was a seriously dangerous mission. Probably more so than any she’d taken on. If he thought he could handle whatever creatures they were going to meet by himself, he’d tucked her away in Sanctuary and go without her. But he knew he couldn’t handle it alone. He wished they could take an army with them, but that would only draw more attention to them. Their best bet was to sneak in, get what they needed and sneak out again.

“I’m done with this,” she interrupted his musings. She’d taken her hair down from its pony tail and was shaking it out. It moved like a curtain around her. “I need a shower.”

“Want company?” he drawled.

“If you really want.” Her eyes were luminous in the soft lantern light of the garage and he could no more help himself than he could stop breathing. He reached out and slid his arms around her.

“What kind of answer was that?” He kissed her forehead. “Wanna skip it altogether?”

She laughed, kissing his chin. “No. It’s my last chance to be clean if what you’ve told me is true.”

She’d rigged a gravity fed shower with a cistern on the roof of the Red Rocket. It was out in the open, but there was no one else around anyway. He knew she could have built another settlement there – all the necessary items and space were there – but she’d wanted something that was just her own. They lathered and soaped each other, touching constantly. She laughed at him for complaining that the water was cold. It was amazing to him how much she liked to touch him, even though he was ghoulish and ugly. She traced each line of scars, each fold of rumpled, ruined flesh as if he was perfect, as if he was exactly what she wanted. She was insatiably sensuous, either naturally or as a result of 210 years of cryogenic sleep, but he found he didn’t care why. He just enjoyed it.

After, they made love long into the night on her little cot. Each touch was a benediction, each breath filled with contentment. She fell into slumber wrapped up in him and he lay there, staring at the rusted out ceiling, hoping it was enough. He had a feeling in the pit of his stomach that he couldn’t quite name. Fear, maybe. Fear for her, for what they would face in the center of the dead world. He felt like they stood on a precipice and that afterwards, everything would be different.

***

She forged a straight path towards the Glowing Sea in her power armor, clanking and hissing as she walked. He followed, keeping an eye out for anything she couldn’t see with her limited range of vision. They followed the old train tracks for much of the journey, fighting super mutants and nests of ferals alike. Seeing her in combat was always both exhilarating and terrifying. She had no thought of her own vulnerability as she fought, rushing in shooting and bashing like she’d been born to it. After each fight, she picked over the copses for any usable loot, but usually only took the ammunition from the mutants and the caps off the ferals. She wanted to keep her pack light.

They spent the first night of the journey at Oberland Station, where they were welcomed warmly and they had a chance to sit down and enjoy a good meal with people who looked up to her as if she was divine. She’d done a lot of work to it since the last time he’d been there. There was a pretty good bar, if a bit low on selection, and there was music from a radio. As the settlers moved off to find their beds in the shacks she’d built for them, they danced together to the music on the trampled ground around the bar, giggling quietly so they didn’t wake anyone up when they tripped over roots and clods of grass. It was late when they set up their camp near the edge of the settlement, inside the barrier of the turrets, but away from the shacks.

The next day brought them to the edge of the Glowing Sea, where the overpass of the old highway had fallen to the ground and the worn out pavement of some road disappeared into the irradiated, melted ground. Nora made a soft sound, like dismay or sadness.

“Nate was a soldier,” she said suddenly. “He was in the 108th Infantry during the war, and had only been home a few weeks before the bombs fell. He told me stories about how desolate a battlefield looked after a fight, how the ground itself seemed to be injured and torn. I never imagined…” She turned to him in her suit. “I never thought it would look like this.”

“It’s gonna be worse before it gets better, Nora. This place…it’s all burned up and twisted. Like lava came through.”

“Like the end of the world.”

“Yes,” he agreed. She took his hand carefully with her gloved one. “And it’s got all the rads a ghoul could ask for.”

“C’mon. Standing here isn’t gonna get this done.”

Within an hour they found their first creatures. They hid behind a crumpled building and watched a radscorpion fight a deathclaw. Neither creature noticed them. The deathclaw won and roared. But it was weak and injured and they finished it off pretty quickly between them.

“What are you doing?” she asked as he carved off a hunk of the dead lizard’s flesh.

“Deathclaw is good eatin’. As long as we can find someplace to cook it.”

“Ew.”

“Don’t ‘ew’ me, Sunshine. Don’t knock it till you’ve tried it.”

“All right, but don’t expect me to like it.”

“You might surprise yourself.”

“ _Might_ being the operative word.” He chuckled and kept butchering the deathclaw to get everything useful. He checked over the radscorpion too, and found it had been a female and had eggs safely tucked under the plates. He gathered those up too. They were lightweight and could cure just about anything. It never hurt to be prepared.

They passed destroyed neighborhoods and twisted skyscrapers, buried up to the top floors in hardened mud and melted concrete. They found pools of stagnant, rad filled water – a good place for feral ghouls who lived and healed themselves there. They attacked anything that moved ferociously, energized more than their northern counterparts. They even attacked each other. Over the fighting, Hancock could hear Nora’s Geiger counter ticking as the ferals bled on her suit. There were several of the type known as Glowing Ones, whose splashy, rotting skin left bright patches of radiation on them both.

“Gross,” Nora commented, sounding disgusted.

“The things I have to look forward to,” Hancock said to no one in particular. He didn’t even think she’d heard him until she swung to face him in the suit.

“You think this will happen to you?”

“Sunshine, it’s the fate of all ghouls to eventually become feral. Once the higher brain function is eaten away by the rads, we all go this way.”

“But you’re not being eaten away by rads,” she argued, and he had to agree she had a point. Turning by way of chems was unheard of. He’d never met another ghoul like himself. But the facts remained the same; at some point his body would break down and he’d either die or turn feral. “

It’s no guarantee,” he said softly. He looked at her again, something fierce and hard in his gaze. “Promise me, Sunshine, promise me you won’t let me live like that.”

At first it seemed like she wanted to fight about it, and even covered up by the power armor he could tell from her stance, but then she sighed. “I promise, John.” He heard a rueful chuckle come from the helmet. “It’s not likely I’ll outlive you, but I promise.”

“You seem remarkably okay about that. Me outliving you, I mean.”

She shrugged, the massive shoulder plates of the armor barely moving. “I’ve tried to make my peace with it. You’ll always be my sexy ghoul, while I turn into an old hag.”

“Old maybe, hag, never.”

“Humph, shows what you know.”

“I love you, Sunshine. Ain’t nothin’ gonna change that.”

“You’re adorable.”

“I try my best.”

“C’mon, let’s get going.”

They kept walking, veering southwest toward the crater where the bombs detonated so long ago. She told him how they’d seen the flash and the mushroom cloud as they were descending into the Vault, how the wind roared and the very air was sucked from her lungs until the huge elevator cut them off from the carnage. She could only imagine in her nightmares what it had been like in this spot. Everything within range must have been vaporized utterly.

About halfway to the crater they found a church, buried up to the steeple with only the broken roof open to the sky. They picked off the ferals trapped inside, feeling like they were being merciful. Even mindless husks deserved a better end than to wander the empty nave and broken pews forever. But their firing drew the attention of other wildlife and they were suddenly beset by more radscorpions. They popped up out of the ground like mole rats, swarming the pair with poison tipped stingers. Hancock switched out his shotgun for his combat knife, stabbing and slashing where he could in the close quarters.

Nora was using a heavy assault rifle, but was bashing the overgrown bugs more often than not with the butt, hitting their heads so they backed away and she could get clear shot on them. With a crunch he heard more than saw the panel on her right leg give way, leaving her exposed to their poison. And sure enough, there was a stinger headed her way, the tip dripping with venom. She shouted and slammed the butt of the rifle onto the creature, cracking the carapace in two, killing it. The venom splashed against her suit in patches. Hancock finished off the one trying desperately to sting him and panted in the aftermath, surrounded by dead bugs.

“John…I don’t feel so good…” Nora had time to say before she sort of slid sideways, the power armor keeping her from just falling over.

“Dammit, did one of them sting you?” he cried, trying to keep her upright with his own slight form. In the suit, she outmassed him and stood taller too. These suits were made for soldiers from another era and she was dwarfed inside it just as he was dwarfed standing next to it.

“I…dunno…maybe…”

“Shit. All right, let me think. We need to get you out of there so I can take a look.” He saw the caved in roof of the church and decided scant protection was better than none at all. The radiation shouldn’t be too bad once they were at the bottom, they’d be essentially underground. The church might even have a basement that was still accessible. “Think you can drop down into the church?”

She just nodded, saving her breath and stumped across the uneven ground. With the suit on, she wouldn’t break her legs in the fall and he heard the crash as she landed on the pews below. He picked his way carefully among the exposed spars of the roof until he found a spot where he could drop onto a balcony that ran around the edge of the nave safely. From there he ran down to the stairs that led upwards to the steeple, or down into the church itself. She still lay in a heap on the floor, broken pews all around her.

“Nora, can you hear me?”

“Yeah…” It was just a whisper.

“C’mon, love, you gotta help me here.” He took a Buffout and pulled her upright. He basically steered her towards the back of the church where a trapdoor was flush with the floor. He was right; there was a basement. She concentrated on putting one foot in front of the other and he kept her going in a more or less straight line and somehow they got into the basement without further mishap. “Can you get out of the suit?”

“Think so,” she said, and he could hear the exhaustion in her voice. The back of the suit swung up and she fell out of it into his waiting arms. In the basement it was quiet and still, the raging winds of the Glowing Sea far above their heads. It was warm and dry too, but dark. He thumbed the switch for the headlamp on the power armor and it sent shadows scurrying into the corners of the cellar, where stacks of boxes and barrels, as well and unused pews and podiums stood haphazardly around them. He carefully laid her down so she was comfortable and pulled a stimpak from his pack.

“This will do ‘til I can get set up.”

“John…”

“Hush. Just rest, I got this.” He bustled about the cellar, snapping up furniture and boxes with his bare hands, preparing to make a fire. Fire burning brightly, lighting up the space, he stripped off her clothes and looked her all over. She was conscious, and didn’t seem to still be taking damage from the poison thanks to his quick work with the stimpak. There was a small scratch on her leg, probably not even related to their fighting the bugs, but it was enough to let the smear of venom get under her skin. Better than an actual sting, he supposed. He cleaned her up as best he could and cooked one of the radscorpion eggs, feeding her each bite until it was gone. Then he waited. It was all he could do.

***

“Hey, Hancock,” she sighed, hours later. “Am I naked?”

“Yup.”

“Enjoying the view?”

“Yup.”

“Horny ghoul.”

“Yup,” he said again, throwing more crumbled furniture on the fire. She was breathing easier and she’d made it through the worst of the poison. It was probably the rads she'd taken that were worse.

“Where are we?”

“The basement of the church. We’re pretty safe here. Glad we’d already cleared out the ferals, though. Don’t think I could’ve done them all by myself.”

“Eh, you’re clever, you would have figured it out.” She shifted on her sleeping bag. “When did we get down here? I don’t remember anything after dropping through the roof.” She huffed a quiet laugh. “Talk about a leap of faith.”

“Hmm?”

“I guess those hydraulics I put in the legs came in handy, huh?”

“They did.” He had the leg of the suit in his lap, in fact, repairing the cracked plate. He didn’t have many tools at hand although they had planned that she might have to make on the spot repairs. He managed to get the plate in place, screwing it back onto the frame, but it was crooked and still chased with cracks and splinters from impacts. The leg was definitely going to be a liability, although it was better than nothing. “How do you feel?”

“Like I jumped through a roof and landed on my ass. I’m all right. Just tired.”

“I’m not surprised. Lucky for you, you didn’t take a lot of poison into your system.”

“Well that is lucky, I guess…” Her breathing evened out and she was gone again. Rest was the best thing for her. And she never got enough of it.

While she slept, he cooked both the deathclaw meat and rest of the radscorpion eggs. He’d make her eat when she woke again.

“Naked in church,” she said later, waking him from a doze. “You’re a bad influence, my love.”

He crossed the small space to reach her, plate in hand with deathclaw steak on it. She made a face but ate it, agreeing that she was starting to feel better. “What do you mean I’m a bad influence?”

“You’ve got me taking all sorts of chems, got me naked in church…what next?” There was a glint in her eye that he normally would not have ignored.

“I’m just enjoying the view.”

“You always say that.”

“I always enjoy it. I like your body, Sunshine.”

“Hmm.” She was resting comfortably, not cold since it was warm and cozy and she seemed perfectly content to just lay on her sleeping bag, totally nude. “You could get naked with me.”

“Hah,” he barked. “You just want me to fuck you.”

“How’d you guess?” She tossed her head like a coquette and he chuckled.

“Oh, Sunshine, I’d love to, but you need more rest.”

“You’re no fun.”

“I’m all fun, baby, but not when your health is on the line.”

“Never stopped you before,” she sighed and shifted on the sleeping bag until she was more comfortable. Her color was better and certainly she was feeling better, but he didn’t want to take any chances. She took enough for both of them, and that was saying something. “Besides, it’s not like I’m hurt. Just…tired.”

“You should pump some RadAway. You've taken enough rads without me addin' to it.”

“Hmm.”

“So, what does being naked in a church have to do with anything?” he asked.

“Not much for religion, are you?”

“The only religion going strong these days is the Children of Atom. And those crazies don’t have churches unless you count toxic waste dumps. So, what is it?”

“Churches are holy ground, sanctified and pure. To be naked in church is to profane that.” She didn’t sound as if she believed that, or at least, she didn’t sound like she cared since the world had basically ended and there was no such thing as hallowed ground. And there certainly was no one around to complain about it. “It’s a respect thing.”

“You worried about your soul?”

“Not particularly. The ferals that were in here were probably parishioners. They’ve been stuck in this place since the bombs dropped, or maybe since just after since I’m sure nothing survived the bombs dropping whether they had the predisposition to become ghouls or not. If there’s anything profane about this world, it’s feral ghouls.”

“Why do you say that?”

“I just think…I dunno…it’s so wrong what happens to people when they turn, when their own bodies betray them. I’m not talking about regular ghouls. I mean, you know I have no problem with that.” She smiled at him. “But ferals…they’re basically zombies. They deserve better.”

“I won’t disagree with you. Ferals are the spectre of death waiting for all ghouls.”

“None of us get out of this world alive, whether it takes 70 years or a couple hundred. Maybe it takes longer for ghouls, but I’m sure that just means they’re more ready for it.” She sighed, as if she knew she wasn’t making any sense. “Ferals, though, they have no cognition. No way to know how long they’ve wandered, or who they were, or anything. I always feel sorry for them. I always feel like I’m being merciful when I take them out.”

“So do I,” he said softly. He finished with the power armor and stood up, stretching the kinks from his back.

“John? We’ve…we’ve never talked about the future.”

“No, we haven’t.”

“Where is this going?”

“What, our relationship? I dunno, love. Where do you want it to go?”

“I know we’ve joked about waking up together forever, but I…I don’t know, I guess I want to know if you mean it.”

“Do you?”

“Yes.” She looked small and scared almost, tucked into a ball on the sleeping bag, as if she didn’t want him to see her body while she was vulnerable. “Yes, I mean it. I don’t ever want to be apart from you.”

He knelt down next to her, smoothing back her hair and cupping her face. “Sunshine, you got nothing to worry about with me covering you. You’re the best thing I’ve got, remember? Always and forever. I’m not gonna leave.”

“Okay.” She tipped her head up so he could kiss her and it was sweet and simple. She’d burrowed into his heart and made herself at home and he was content with that in a way he’d never imagined he would be.

“Hey, you’re even better than chems, you know that? Well, 80% as good.”

“You’re ridiculous, that’s what I know.”

“But you love me,” he grinned.

“Yeah, I do.” He stood up and banked the fire before putting the combat armor back on, making sure his shotgun was loaded and his knife was in easy reach. “Where are you going?”

“Scouting. We’re gonna need more food, and I want to make sure our exit is clear.”

“And what am I supposed to do?”

“Stay here and look pretty all nekkid in church.”

“Pfft.” She even stuck her tongue out at him and he laughed.

“I’ll be back soon, Sunshine. You just take it easy. Don’t forget that RadAway, I mean it.” He placed a quick kiss on her lips and went out the hatch.

Outside it was dark and quiet, other than the incessant wind. There were of course no stars to be seen through the clouds of radioactive dust, but he didn’t care about that. He was more interested in whether or not they could get out through the steeple. He climbed all the way up and found that while the steeple itself had started to crumble and break apart, the stairs still reached the top and they’d be able to get out. It would be tight with the power suit, but hey, if nothing else, she could just push her way out. He found the dead radscorpions still on the ground where they’d fought them and cut some thick slabs of their rather stringy flesh off them to cook. It wasn’t as good as deathclaw, but it would serve.

When he crept back inside he found that she’d rearranged their sleeping bags and was asleep again, an empty RadAway bag on the floor next to her. She’d gotten dressed, too, at least in her jeans and her tank top. He saw her shirt bunched up under her head as a pillow and she never stirred as she built up the fire again and cooked the radscorpion meat. When he was done he curled up next to Nora, tugging her until she came into his arms, her hand automatically finding his heartbeat, even in her sleep. It was enough. It was more than enough. It was so good it hurt, cracked him wide open like a searing wound. Somewhere in the dark of that ruined, desolate place he called his soul he found the strength to believe in it, and let go of the fear of it. He held her tight and he slept.

***

The crater was a wide open space with shacks and bridges over the stagnant, glowing water that had pooled there. The rad worshipping zealots were kneeling in that water, hands raised to the sky, murmuring incessant prayers. He heard Nora snort with something like disparagement but it didn’t carry far and when they were approached by a thin woman in something that looked like ceremonial rags, she kept her thoughts to herself.

“You trespass upon the holy ground of Atom,” the woman intoned. “I am Mother Isolde. What is your will here, stranger?”

“I have been touched by Atom’s Glow, Mother. In distant Far Harbor, I was anointed by the Fog Mother herself.” Hancock was startled; he knew she’d experienced some strange things while in Maine, but he hadn’t known that was one of them. “I am looking for Dr. Virgil,” Nora continued. “Have you seen him, or know where he is?”

“Yes,” Isolde said with a sigh that sounded almost sad. “We know where he is. In truth, he has caused some concern among my faithful. There are some who feel his presence is an affront to Atom. If you are truly one of us, you should be prepared for this. What do you wish of him?”

“Information, nothing more.”

“He does not wish to be disturbed, not even by one who has been blessed by Atom’s Glow.” Isolde looked at him and he felt a bit uncomfortable under her gaze. He knew the Children of Atom considered ghouls to be blessed, but it was another thing entirely to be looked at like a side of Brahmin. Her interest in him was far too blatant to be casual. Is this how Nora felt when people saw her only as an object of desire?

“I promise I mean him no harm,” Nora said, stepping slightly in front of Hancock and making it look like she was merely shifting her stance. He nearly grinned behind her back; she hadn’t missed the hungry look in the leader’s eyes.

“Very well,” the leader went on. “There is a cave to the south of here where he makes his home. Be warned, it is protected.”

“Thank you,” Nora said and turned on her heel to leave. Hancock could hear the ticking of her Geiger counter through her suit and knew she didn’t want to stay any longer than she had to.

“A cave, huh?” he said when they’d passed out of the crater.

“I have a bad feeling about this, Hancock,” Nora mused.

“What sort of bad feeling?”

“I'm not sure. I mean, living out here he’d need to be in a hazmat suit like all the time. Then I thought maybe he’d turned ghoulish, but then he would have considered blessed by them. He isn’t.”

“Well, no use worrying about it until we get there.”

“You’re right.” She took a deep breath and let it out slowly. “Ready?”

“Ready.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I had no idea how to make the Glowing Sea an interesting place for fiction purposes. But the Penecostal Church buried under all that rubble is one of my favorite places to go there; it’s just so creepy and cool and sad. Yes, I invented the basement in the church, but let’s face it, have you ever heard of a church that didn’t have one?


	12. Blue

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Hancock gets something off his chest.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "I know you feel the need to help the world, Sunshine, but you can’t let that get in the way of what you want too. I want you to find your son. I want this nightmare to be over for you.”
> 
> “What do you know of my nightmares?” There was a dangerous edge in her voice, but he ignored it. He kept his voice gentle and took her hands in his, making her look at him.
> 
> “Plenty."

Nora saw the deathclaw curled up in the dirt before he did and held her arm out to stop him from going forward. _Guess the helmet was worth it_ , then, he thought. She lined up her sights and he took a deep breath, readying his shotgun. Beyond the sleeping monster they saw a cave, and figured they were in the right place. Nora pumped a lot of lead into the mutated lizard’s head before it fully woke up and after that it was easy to kill between the two of them. She carved off a hunk of the meat herself this time, he noticed. Maybe she hadn’t thought it was so bad after all. Then she stepped into the cave.

The first thing they both noticed was the absence of sound. Nora sighed and stepped out of the power armor, stretching out kinks and sore muscles. She still looked a bit tired, but mostly she just looked determined. They went on through the cave, finding turrets and chains of cans, even some Protectrons marching around, ignoring them. Dr. Virgil might not want any visitors, but he didn’t seem predisposed to be hostile either. At least to them; he remembered that Kellogg was the one who was supposed to be looking for him. The pair rounded a curve and the rock and saw a wide open cavern, brightly lit and full of scientific equipment.

And…a super mutant.

“Dr. Brian Virgil?” Nora asked, hesitantly.

“Yes,” the big, green man shaped creature said. He had rigged his glasses to fit around his abnormally large head, and wore a lab coat with the sleeves torn away to fit across his huge shoulders and arms.

Hancock wandered around the cave as Nora and the super mutant talked. He was curious to know how an Institute scientist came to be hiding in the literal middle of nowhere as a super mutant. There was a computer terminal in an alcove, attached to its own small generator and he took a quick look. There was nothing of interest there, just some notes on how hard it was getting to type and write equations. He focused back on the conversation happening behind him.

“So, what you’re telling me is that if I get you this serum, you’ll be able to revert? That’s amazing! Will it work on other super mutants?”

“No. The strain of FEV I injected into myself was unique. And therefore so is the cure. Each person’s response to FEV is different. There’s no way to make a broad enough cure for all.” Virgil rattled around his lab, searching for blank paper. “Now, you know the Institute uses teleportation, right?”

“Yes, we got that from Kellogg.” Hancock noticed she did not specify how.

“I still can’t believe you were able to take down a killer like him,” Virgil said with something like admiration. “At any rate, the relay works using the underlying frequency of a radio station. You will need a chip from a Courser in order to hack into the frequency and use the relay yourself. Do you think you can do that?”

“Is it gonna be any harder than taking down Kellogg? He wasn’t so tough when all was said and done.”

“Hmm, your glibness means either you have too much bravado or you really did kill him. Or are you just trying to keep me talking?” As he spoke he was drawing something on the paper he’d found. His hands were too big for normal pencils, and he was using what looked suspiciously like a crayon. “Once you have a Courser chip, and have it decrypted, you will need to build this teleporter. It will be large, and require a lot of power to run. Is there somewhere you can build something like this?”

“I’m sure I’ll find a place,” Nora assured the big, green man. “And this will hack the relay frequency?”

“Yes. You’ll only have one shot at it before the Institute realizes what you’ve done, so make it count.” He handed her the paper with the scrawled instructions on it. “Now, don’t forget what I asked for.”

“Don’t worry, I won’t. I’ll do my best to get it to you, one way or the other.” She rolled the paper into a tube and put it in her pack, then faced Hancock. “Ready?”

“That’s it?”

“That’s it,” she agreed. “Let’s get the hell out of here.”

“All right.”

Three days later, they were back in Sanctuary Hills. Nora spent the first day reacquainting herself with her community, building a few new structures and rigging up the streetlights finally. Hancock mostly watched and spent time with MacCready and Mama Murphy. He even took a shift weeding in the huge garden plot Nora had planted to provide fresh vegetables and fruit for all her settlements. Some of it stayed in Sanctuary, some of it she stored to use in new settlements just starting out. Once that was done to her satisfaction, she handed the teleporter instructions to Sturges, who frowned, hemmed and hawed, then finally grinned.

“Won’t be easy,” the burly mechanic drawled. “But I think we can make it work.”

“We should have all the components we need, right? You know how I am with hoarding spare parts.”

“Yeah, I think so. I’ll get right on this. Gonna take some time, though.”

“It’s all right, I have other business I have to attend to before we can make it work, anyway.”

“Good to have you back, boss,” Sturges said.

“Thanks, Sturges. It’s good to be back.”

From the corner of his eye, Hancock saw Deacon lingering close to their conversation and wandered over to talk to the Railroad spy. “Deacon, what are you doing?”

“Me? Nothing.” The Railroad agent looked shifty.

“Uh huh. Look, you got something to say, just say it.” He stood with his arms crossed, knowing fully well he didn’t cut a particularly impressive physical specimen, but he knew he could back it up just the same. He assumed Deacon knew it too.

Deacon sighed. “Dez won’t be happy Nora’s having the Minutemen build the teleporter thing.”

“Who’s Dez?”

“Desdemona is our leader, Hancock.”

“Ahh, the fearless, faceless wonder of the Railroad.”

“Actually, I think that honor goes to Nora. Still, I need to tell her. She’s probably going to want to see Miss General of the Minutemen about it.”

“Hey, as long as she plays nice.”

“Oh, she’ll play nice, she just won’t be happy about it.”

“I consider myself duly warned.”

“Duly noted. I’ll be off before Nora sees me. And how did you, by the way? I thought I’d snuck up on her pretty well.”

“It’s my job to keep an eye out.”

“Right, well, see ya ‘round Mayor.”

“Yeah, see ya.” Hancock watched Deacon disappear into the crowd once more and frowned. Hancock was getting pretty damned tired of everyone assuming Nora was theirs to push around. He intended to put a stop to it. The only one doing any pushing was gonna be him, and it wasn’t gonna be for anyone else’s eyes to see.

Speaking of which, he and his ladylove were well overdue for some time together that didn’t involve giant bugs, lizards or green, hazy rads. He slid next to her as she looked over a pile of components from who knew what in her kitchen and put his hands on her shoulders, kneading lightly.

“Hey, Hancock,” she murmured, lost in thought but aware of his presence.

“Hey, Sunshine. I saw Deacon earlier, I think he’s gone off to tattle on you to Desdemona.”

“Wonderful. Well, I need to make a report to her too. Might as well get it over with. Besides, we’ll need PAM to give me a courser location anyway.”

“Who is PAM?”

“Predictive Analytic Machine. Basically she’s a robotic Mama Murphy.”

“That’s not a mental image I ever wanted, love.” He tucked his chin onto her shoulder and she leaned back into him and he moved his hands to encircle her waist. She was still too tiny, in his opinion. “Hmm, we got enough time to play first?”

“Honestly, John. Right now?”

“Yes, right now.” She covered his hands on her waist with her own. “You still got your Vault suit?”

“Yes, why?” she asked warily. He grinned.

“Cuz I want to take it off you with my teeth.” She hummed. “Go get it,” he whispered in her ear, making her shiver at his tone. Most ghouls’ voices were chewed up by the rads, but he knew his was still mostly whiskey and smoke, and he knew she liked it when he purred at her. He would never get over just how much she seemed to love everything about him, no matter that he looked like Brahmin jerky and had no nose. He was gnarled and rough, but she didn’t care. Hey, if he was her fetish, he wasn’t going to complain.

He closed up the house while she found her Vault suit, closing doors and window shutters he saw had magically appeared after he’d dropped a word in Sturges’s ear about it. It was gloomy and shadowed, but it was also private. Seemed Nora had the same problem he did separating business from leisure when it came to her little town. Her house was right in the center of town, surrounded by shops and the houses of other settlers. Most had a habit of just walking in if they saw her door open, and he made sure to lock it. He wanted no interruptions. He locked the side door too, just to be safe, even though that only led out into the backyard where she’d fenced off a portion of scraggly grass and a concrete driveway where her car used to be parked that she’d turned into a patio of sorts. He had some plans for that yard, once all this was settled. A firepit, maybe some of those springy chairs…

“Ahem,” Nora said, standing in the hallway decked out in her blue Vault suit, her hair pinned on top her head in a neat rolled bun. The suit hugged every curve of her body and for a moment he just stopped and looked at her. She was petite but proportionate, narrow waist, trim hips, small breasts nevertheless straining against the fitted material. A zipper ran the length of the front, with smaller ones at wrists and ankles. _So many zippers_ , he thought with anticipation.

He crossed the space to her and turned her around so he could look at the backside too. The suit followed the sweet shape of her ass, clinging to it like water. Down her powerful legs to her bare feet. He’d completely forgotten to tell her that Daisy had found nail paint. _I’ll tell her later_.

He almost didn’t know where to begin. They were equidistant from the old red sofa in the living room or her comfortable new bed in the bedroom. Or maybe he would just have her there in the hall. Who needed to move from this spot anyway? He pulled the pins from her hair, one by one, wondering if she’d put it up on purpose, knowing how he liked to play with it. Probably. She knew him at least as well as he knew her. He massaged her scalp, making her moan a little. There was more than just need in his touch. She was too stressed, and it showed in the tension of her back, the strain in her face. She needed to relax, and he could think of no better way to achieve it than making her boneless under his attentions. He smoothed his hands down her neck and shoulders, following the faint striping in the material down her spine. He smacked one butt cheek playfully and she jumped. He chuckled low in his throat.

“John…?”

“Yes, my love?” he murmured, sliding the length of her hair out of his way to sip along her neckline.

“Sofa or bed?” she asked, gasping for air. Damn, they did know each other well, didn’t they?

“I’m not sure yet. Maybe both, maybe neither.”

“Hmm…”

“I like you on top of me,” he whispered, tugging the zipper at her throat just slightly down, exposing more of her neck. “I like spreading you out wide. I like you bent over my balcony…” And he bit her gently. Her legs nearly gave out and he supported her weight with an arm around her midsection. She was barely breathing, he noticed. “There’s just so many ways I like you, I don’t know what to do first.”

“Please…John…”

“Please what, Sunshine?” He deliberately back away from her, knowing the anticipation was coiling inside her and she was going to beg more before he was finished.

“I don’t care what you do, just do it soon.”

“Soon? No, I don’t think so. I think this is going to last a long, long time.” He cupped her breasts through the suit abruptly, filling his palms with them. Her spine curved and she wanted to back into him, but he held himself too far away. She groaned and he laughed softly. “Totally boneless Vaultsicle is what I’m after.”

“You’ve made a good start…”

“I’ve barely begun.” She groaned again and he took pity on her, swinging her around and kissing her hard. She wrapped her arms around his neck and held on for dear life. He pressed her back against the wall and plundered, lips, tongue and teeth. When he pulled away she could see the glint in his eye. He hitched up her legs until his hands were hooked under her knees, standing between them, supporting her weight with the wall and his body. He did as he promised and tugged on the front zipper with his teeth, flicking her skin with his tongue as it appeared. He shifted so his hands were spread on the wall and she was hiked up high, spine flush with the wall. “Maybe I’ll have you like this.”

“Yes…” she gasped out. He pushed against her, managing to hit just the right spot through his clothes and she moaned, aching for completion.

“Tell me you want me.”

“I want you. I always want you,” she cried. Her hands were free, and she was pushing his coat off his shoulders, rapidly unbuttoning his shirt with her nimble fingers as far as she could reach. He let her down onto her feet so he could strip off his clothes, leaving them in an untidy pile on the floor. He skimmed his hands back over Nora’s body, pulling the zipper completely down and baring her body to his gaze. He rolled the suit down off her, his rough hands scraping her skin. He could see it in her eyes that she liked it.

Once her hands were free of the sleeves, he knelt between her feet and used his mouth to push and pull the suit lower and lower until she was exposed to him. He buried his face in the short red curls and his tongue found her clit with ease. She bumped into the wall as she moaned and he steadied her with his hands on her hips. He licked and nibbled a path from her core to her legs, giving each one its due as he continued to roll down the suit, until at last she was naked and nearly writhing. In one smooth motion, he hooked her knees with his hands again and stood up, impaling her on his cock and bracing her against the wall. The shock of it had her clamped down on him hard, but she was so wet and ready that he slid in and out of her easily. She was breathless, her eyes closed, her hands restless on his shoulders. He knew what she wanted. She wanted to grab his ass and pull him tighter into her, but she couldn’t reach. He nearly laughed.

“Look at me, Sunshine,” he gritted out, keeping a tight hold of his desire long enough for her to finish. Her eyes flashed open and focused on him in the gloom, her lips parted as she gasped and moaned her way to orgasm as he pumped into her body like a piston. Deeper, deeper, ever deeper, until he felt the walls of her womb against the head of his cock. “C’mon, love, scream for me.”

And she did. He let her slide down the wall, slipping out of her. “But…you didn’t…” she managed before he scooped her into his arms and carried her to the bed.

“Not yet,” he promised. “You have too many bones still.”

“Oh, John, you’re so…”

“I’m so in love with you,” he interrupted, dropping her on the bed and covering her with his body. He kissed her, long and deep, never wanting it to end. “And I’m so not done with you yet.”

“You do always keep your promises,” she said on a sigh as he started to work his way down her body.

“I do.”

He did.

***

In the morning he watched her pack up a bag to take with her to see the leader of the Railroad. She tucked in a worn coat and armored chest plate that looked as old as his battered frockcoat, only hers was a deep blue. With it she packed leather trousers and her own tricorn hat and a pair of black leather gloves that were cracked and weathered.

“I’ve never seen you in that,” he commented.

“It’s the uniform of the General of the Minutemen. I got it off General McGann’s body at the Castle.”

“Hope you washed it first.”

“Of course.” She peered over her shoulder at him slouching in her doorway. “Did you wash the frockcoat?”

“Probably not. I have since,” he retorted in his own defense as she started laughing at him. “Hey, I got mine out of a case, not off a dead body.”

“All right, fair enough,” she said, still grinning.

“Maybe it’ll be a good way to remind everyone of who you really are, Madam General. They should be helping you, not the other way around.”

“That was the idea,” she agreed. He shook his head ruefully. As much as she claimed he was smarter than she was, he didn’t buy it for a second. She was too clever by half, his Vaultsicle. “I thought we’d go by way of Goodneighbor? I want to be nice and rested when I go see Dez.”

“No complaints here. I wouldn’t mind having you in my own bed again.”

She sighed, mockingly exasperated. “Life isn’t all about sex, John.”

“You’re right, there’s chems too.”

“Be serious, for once.”

“Why, you’re serious enough for both of us.” She was serious, in fact, peering at him over her shoulder with a frown forming. “Hey, Sunshine, lighten up. The world already ended.” He pushed off the door frame and turned her to face him with his hands on her shoulders, rubbing them lightly. “The world already ended,” he repeated, looking down into her worried face. “And we’re still alive through it all. The sun is shining, and I love you. It’s a good day, right?”

“You’re right,” she let out with a heavy breath. “I just…there’s so many things…”

“Hey, you’re allowed to take time away from your worries. I guess it’s my job to make sure you do. I’m not gonna complain about that. I look forward to it every night,” he added with a leer. She cracked a smile, which was what he’d hoped for. “Sweetheart, you don’t have to shoulder the Commonwealth’s problems. I know Preston asked you, and Desdemona’s asked you and even that Paladin, whatever his name was, asked you, but it’s okay for you to say no.”

“Danse. The Paladin’s name was Danse.”

“Whatever, I don’t care. I care about you, Nora. You are all I care about.” He kissed her, slow and sweet and just a tad bit spicy. And she responded, as she always did. When she opened her eyes again, the brimming tension was faded into the background again. “Now, we should be off, before I decide to turn you boneless again.”

“All right.”

The trip to Goodneighbor was quiet and easy, with little to halt them on their way, only some raiders who’d tried to set up a ‘tollbooth’ on a bridge. They collected more than they’d bargained for. The pair was dusty and tired when they arrived at the State House, but no worse for wear. He’d taken a shot in the shoulder, but it hadn’t gone through his coat, and he thought he might know why. Nora had been awfully smug after the fight when she noticed he’d been shot at. And it didn’t protest the way it used to when he ran and fought in it. He suspected that ballistic weave Deacon had been telling him about ended up in his clothes rather than hers. He didn’t know how she’d managed it, unless it was the other night when he went on a drunken tear with Mama Murphy and Mac. That night was definitely hazy in his memory.

Fahrenheit met them in his office and seemed genuinely pleased to see them both. He left the two women to catch up – and that was strange all by itself – while he looked over the messy stack of papers on his desk. Same old shit, different names, he thought. How much trading did one settlement, even one the size of Goodneighbor, need to do? They ended up getting noodles from Charlie, as well as a bottle of something nameless but potent, and had a good time with Fahr.

As odd as it was to see Nora and his daughter interact together, they seemed to like each other enough to do it willingly. The two women had a good time ribbing on him as he hit his chems and watched blearily as they talked and cleaned weapons. At some unspoken signal, Fahr left and they were alone.

“Hancock,” Nora said loudly, and he wondered if she’d been trying to get his attention for a while and he had been oblivious.

“Hmm?”

“I’m gonna take a bath.” She rattled the bottle of Rad-X at him, showing him that she remembered and disappeared into the bathroom. He stayed on the sofa, pondering the weird turn his life had taken. Good…but weird. “John! Get your skinny, ghoul ass in here!” she shouted over the splash of water in the tub and he jumped.

“Yes, ma’am.”

***

The Old North Church was tucked away between ruined skyscrapers and super mutant camps, and unless one knew what they were looking for it was totally invisible as the headquarters of the Railroad. Nora led Hancock around the corner to a half tumbled down house and into the basement, where tunnels led from the street level into the cavernous space below in the crypt of the church. It was here the Railroad now called home. Strictly speaking, as a tourist, he shouldn’t have gone in with her, but the look in her eye dared anyone to tell her he couldn’t. It was good to see that streak of confidence back in her step. Deacon was already there, Hancock saw, as well as an assortment of people dressed in everything from faded denim and flannel to armored jackets that looked heavy and fairly uncomfortable. A dark skinned woman with half her head shaved checked him out, her eyes following him as Nora greeted people she knew.

“Glory, stop staring,” she said to the woman.

“Why is he here?” Glory grated out. “He shouldn’t be here.”

“He’s with me. And you obviously know who he is.”

“He’s a tourist.” She said it with a sneer, as if he was just a wastelander without balls for not joining up and becoming an agent.

“And tourists are necessary for our work too,” Nora continued with both patience and affection. Hancock wasn’t sure if the affection was directed at him or the woman. His Vaultsicle certainly seemed to be drawn to difficult women to be friends with. “How much do you think he could accomplish as an agent? He can’t hide like Deacon, and while he’s a good shot, he’s not as good as you or me. Sorry, love, but it’s true,” she shot over her shoulder at him.

“No argument here,” he commented.

“He’s not heavy material,” she went on to Glory. “He lets the Memory Den do its thing and leaves the rest of it up to us. He has his own shit to deal with too.”

Glory threw her hands in the air in surrender. “Fine, he can poke around. He can’t touch my gun,” she warned, her eyes pinning him to the spot.

He stared back, undaunted. So this was the famous Glory, the Angel of Death. He’d heard stories about her. She had a lovely face, framed in shockingly white hair on a face so youthful. He’d heard she was a synth, one of the first to escape with the Railroad’s help, which meant she could be anywhere between 20 and 50 years old. On her back was slung a massive minigun, but she carried it as if it didn’t weigh more than a combat knife. She kept watching him, but didn’t say anything further.

Nora went deeper into the crypt and Hancock saw a central slab of stone that had been converted into a ready table, spread with maps, schematics and mission tickets. An older woman stood behind it, smoking carelessly and dressed in some post nuclear chic with a scarf thrown across her throat over her worn leathers and vest.

“Nora, Deacon tells me you’ve engaged the Minutemen to help build the teleporter. Please, reconsider and come to us. There are so many more lives to be saved for the Railroad.”

“I’m going to stick with my Minutemen, Desdemona. Sturges is capable and I have the space to build it and keep it a secret. With only Mercer Safehouse as a location, you would be too out in the open.”

Desdemona turned to him, and her expression was hard with something he couldn’t readily identify. “Mayor, welcome. I wish you would convince her to bring the plans to us.”

“No, I won’t,” he growled out, almost before he knew what he was going to say. Desdemona looked taken aback at his vehemence.

“I beg your pardon?”

“I trust Nora to know her own mind. You all seem to be forgetting what she is trying to do here. She ain’t here to do your bidding. She has a son to find. That is her priority. You keep forgettin’ that, all of you. Even the Minutemen,” he added with a slight nod to Nora in her blue coat and breast plate, her tricorn perched on her head. She looked damn good. But he’d had enough of others pushing her around and it showed in his tone.

“The rescue of synths is our top priority. Nora knew that when she joined.”

“Yes, she did. But you have other means. You were gettin’ along just fine without her, and you will continue to do so long after she’s gone her own way.”

“You seem to be lacking some recent knowledge, Mayor,” Desdemona said harshly. “Our previous headquarters was butchered and every safehouse save one has been destroyed by the Institute. We have no other means.”

“I’m sorry for that, but that doesn’t mean you have the right to heap it all on Nora’s head. It ain’t her problem. Your organization would still exist without her. Maybe you should think about that instead of prevailing upon her good nature to help all those in need all the time.”

“As you saying you don’t want her to be an agent?” Desdemona asked in a silky voice with steel underneath it. “That is not your call.”

“No, it isn’t, and I don’t ask her for things I don’t think she can deliver either. Or persuade her to pick sides when everyone here wants the same end. If she wants to spend her time helping you, that’s fine. But don’t think for a moment that I will stand by and let you sway her from her purpose. It works out conveniently well for you that she needs to get into the Institute, but that’s as far as it should go for you. How she chooses to get in there is none of your damned business. And does it truly matter _how_ if there’s a chance for the entire Commonwealth to reap the benefit?”

“Well,” Desdemona snapped, her temper starting to flare. “You’re awfully heavy handed for a one time drifter, worth nothing more than the chems in his pocket.” She sneered at him, and he knew in that look was disgust for him being a ghoul to boot, but she wouldn’t say it aloud in front of Nora. That’s what that hard expression had been. “You don’t know what we go through here, or how many lives we’ve saved from slavery.”

“I don’t give a shit how many lives you’ve saved. I’m just tryin’ to save one. It’s all well and good that you’ve chosen to pit yourself against the Institute. That’s your business. When it spills over into someone else’s life, especially someone that I care about and would like to keep safe and happy, then it becomes _my_ business. And I’ll have my say on the matter whether you like it or not.”

“Dez, you knew what she was before she became an agent, you knew she had other commitments, other loyalties,” Deacon said quietly, off to the side. “Mayor Hancock is right. It doesn’t matter how she gets in, as long as she does.” Hancock had never imagined he’d get support from the shifty spy who was always eager to drag Nora off on another adventure without a thought to anyone else. He found himself re-evaluating the man. Deacon must have some pull in this invisible struggle, he decided, because Desdemona backed down and the tension unraveled as tempers cooled.

“I will still need your help, Dez,” Nora said in a conciliatory manner. “I need to find a Courser. Without a courser chip, I can’t hack the signal to teleport into the Institute.”

“Fine,” Desdemona said abruptly, still angry but willing to be mollified if the Railroad still got to play a role. “I’ll have PAM get on it. And you should still talk to Tinker Tom. He might have some ideas for you.”

“I will.”

Hancock watched her as she took herself off to one side, where a thin man wearing…something on his head was diligently trying to make himself invisible. They talked and Nora looked like she was humoring him more than listening, but they did a little trading and when she was done, they were ready to take their leave.

“Let me know when PAM has a location. I can be reached at the State House,” she said to Deacon as they headed back to the tunnel to the street.

“I will. That could have gone better, but I guess we all needed some reminding of what really matters here,” Deacon said, aiming his words at Hancock. He stuck out a hand and Hancock took it.

“As long as it ain’t forgotten again,” he said in warning.

“Point taken,” Deacon replied, a sardonic expression on his face. “Nora, I’ll see you later, all right?”

“Right.”

Outside, Nora stood in the bright September sunshine and lifted her head to it, basking in the rays. She seemed to be composing herself. “Was that really necessary?” she asked after a moment.

He was ready with a quip and a grin, but he caught the look on her face. She was angry. He changed tack. “Yes, it was,” he said, all seriousness. “You’re not a tool in someone’s hand. And don’t worry, I’ll have a go at Preston too if I think he’s takin’ you for granted. I know you feel the need to help the world, Sunshine, but you can’t let that get in the way of what you want too. I want you to find your son. I want this nightmare to be over for you.”

“What do you know of my nightmares?” There was a dangerous edge in her voice, but he ignored it. He kept his voice gentle and took her hands in his, making her look at him.

“Plenty. I’ve held you in the dark, I’ve dried your eyes. I’ve never lost a spouse but I do know what it’s like to be a…” He cut himself short. He didn’t know it this was the right time to mention his own experience with parenthood. True, he hadn’t been there for Fahr as she grew up, but he was more than willing to lay his life on the line for her now. They never used words like dad, daughter or love, but they were there just the same.

“You know what it’s like to be…what? Do you have children, John?” she asked, almost sarcastically. He took a deep breath and internally shrugged. Now was as good a time as any.

“I do.”

“How come I didn’t know this?”

“We don’t talk about it much, and never in front of…well, anyone.”

“It’s someone in Goodneighbor, isn’t it? Who?”

He smiled gently, a private mirth. “Guess.”

She thought for a moment, went over everything she knew of him, and everyone he associated with. “Oh my God. Fahrenheit?”

He laughed darkly. “My princess in shining armor. I didn’t meet her for the first time until she was grown. Her mother I never saw again, but I would get messages, requests, if you will, for caps and chems and she would tell me about our girl. I don’t know what kind of upbringing my daughter had, she won’t say and I don’t push. But I know we have forged a relationship for ourselves that means more than anything to me. Or it did, until I met you.” He cupped Nora’s face in his hands. “I want you to fight to find your son, no matter how many years have passed for him. Because I know there’s no such thing as too late, unless you do nothin’ at all.”

“All right, Hancock, you’re forgiven…this time.”

“Damn right. I stand by my words. No one gets to take advantage of you for their own ends, except me, because my ends are all about you.”

“Fine,” she sighed, resting her head on his chest, ear pressed to his heart. “Let’s go home,” she said into the ruffles of his shirt. “And you can give me a demonstration.”

“Hell, yes!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yeah, I know you go back to Virgil once you kill the Courser. But for ease of storytelling I just combined the two visits.
> 
> Yeah, this chapter got a little bit long, but I don't think you dear readers mind.


	13. High Fidelity

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Hancock learns what it's like to be on the receiving end of Nora's care.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> “I hate the Commonwealth,” she said darkly... “I hate the weather, I hate the food, I hate that all my favorite places harbor bigots or monsters. I hate all the fucking work I do that gets attacked by raiders. I hate that I can’t swim in the water without loading up on chems. I hate that I have no hot water at home…seriously, I need you to do something about that,” she paused in her tirade to shoot at him. He nodded dutifully....
> 
> “I hate the dirty looks I get when we’re in public, even from my own people who should know better. I hate that I have to go down the rabbit hole into the unknown Institute without you at my side. You’re the one thing in this blasted out, fucked up, shitty world that I do not hate.”

They settled into a routine. By day, Hancock went over his books, wrote out duty rosters for his Neighborhood Watch and dabbled with his chems, enjoying the relative peace and quiet of being home. Nora, on the other hand, spent her time scavving in the ruins, clearing out super mutants and raiders alike, learning her way around the new downtown. A couple of times she went off to her settlements, both to take the junk she recycled to them for parts and to fight off attacks from Gunners and raiders who thought small settlements might be easy pickings. Sometimes it was the middle of the night when she got back to the State House, but she always came home to him, battered and bruised, tired and filthy. But home.

The ever present drifters started spending less time in his rooms, moving their parties and subsequent hangovers to other sections of the State House, leaving them with what little privacy could be had.

“Maybe we should renovate some of those older sections of the building that you’re not using,” Nora said to him one rainy afternoon about a week after they’d returned. “You need more space.”

“Go for it, General,” he said dryly. “You’re better at building stuff than me. Just be careful you don’t make the floors collapse.”

The doors below opened and she glanced down the stairwell to see a familiar pair of sunglasses and frowned. “A project for another day, it would seem. Deacon is here.”

Hancock sat with her as Deacon explained PAM’s prediction that a Courser could be found by tracking its chip’s signal on the radio frequency. She thought that perhaps if they got near enough to the CIT ruins, they might pick up a signal.

“Well, let’s get on it,” Nora said.

Deacon and Hancock followed her out of Goodneighbor and into the ruins. The Commonwealth Institute of Technology stood as a onetime bastion of learning and scientific achievement, and it was from there that the Institute had begun. That much was known. Since the Great War, however, no one truly knew exactly how the Institute had kept going. Synths that escaped rarely knew anything other than their designation, and those that did, didn’t talk. Most escaped synths wanted their memories of their time underground erased, deleting the slavery and toil from their minds. Not to mention, it made them harder to track down and find if they no longer even knew they were synthetic people.

It should have been obvious that the Institute rested somewhere beneath the old CIT ruins, but until they’d understood that their foe used teleportation technology, it had never crossed anyone’s mind that that was the only way in, and therefore no one had thought they might be totally underground with no surface entrance – other than the sewers and air vents. It was from there escaped synths emerged onto the surface.

Once the trio reached the ruins, and avoided the super mutants that had taken it over, Nora turned her Pip-Boy’s radio to the find the signal. She picked it up relatively quickly, and they followed it as it got stronger. In the shadow of a tall skyscraper still miraculously intact, the signal was so strong it got to be annoying.

“That’s Greentech Genetics,” Deacon said.

“I take it our Courser is inside, then?” Nora said, pulling out a sophisticated plasma gun Hancock had never seen her use before. Deacon had a stolen Institute pistol and he was going to stick with his trusted shotgun.

“After you, General,” Deacon said with a flourish towards the door. She shook her head at him in bemusement and entered the building in a crouch, stealth being the best way to walk into the unknown. The two men followed behind her, watching her flank.

They needn’t have bothered. It was clear they weren’t the only ones after the Courser. Gunners had swarmed the building on each level, and the three of them decided to stick to the shadows and let them fight it out. They mopped up any leftover survivors as they went. It was unclear what the Gunners were after. They could hear announcements over the PA system that the Courser had holed up on the top floor, and the Gunners were fighting their way up as well, but there was no mention of why. Nora shrugged at Hancock and Deacon and followed in their wake.

Once all the Gunners were either dead or otherwise incapacitated, they confronted the Courser. He was not what Hancock had been expecting. He’d heard tales from Deacon and Nick about how fearsome and powerful the synth retention agents were, but frankly, he was unimpressed overall. The stealth ability threw him a little, but Nora seemed prepared for it, and kept track of the black clad figure the whole time she blasted him with plasma. It was a bit like fighting Kellogg all over again. There were other synths there too, and the fighting got fierce for a while.

Too fierce.

Without warning, Hancock felt a sudden sting across his back and he stumbled forward, trying to swing around to see what had hit him. He was face to face with a Gen-1 synth, who lifted a shock baton and swung at his face with it. He blasted off his shotgun, shattering the metal casing of the machine. It crumpled backwards in a heap. But he spent too long admiring his handiwork and before he knew what had hit him, he was flat on the floor, Nora crying out above him.

It was a strange sensation, like he was floating, but he was cold. It had been a long time since he felt cold. He could hear Nora and Deacon talking to someone, and he could hear footsteps and another woman’s voice, but he couldn’t see and he couldn’t move. He heard the stimpak injecting itself somewhere close to his ear, but he couldn’t feel it at all. If he hadn’t known better, he would have said he was high, but he hadn’t hit anything stronger than Buffout to give him some extra punch behind his combat knife if he’d needed it. Plus, he was too damned cold to be high.

“It looks bad, Bullseye,” he heard from a distance. The voices he heard were muddy and fading, as if he was underwater, but that didn’t seem right.

“I know, Deacon. Can you carry him?”

“All the way back? He’ll bleed out before we get to the door.”

Hancock heard a sigh and the rustling of fabric. He heard a bottle rattle and the sound of someone shaking out pills. Again it sounded very far away and was receding even as he tried to stay with it. “He’s not bleeding anymore, you’re just squeamish.”

“Hey, that’s still a lot of rads…”

“Fine, wimpy wonder, I’ll do it…” Then he heard nothing more.

***

When he opened his eyes, the first thing he saw was his own bathroom. He was in his bathtub, completely naked and soaking in water that might possibly be considered warm. He moved his arms experimentally and found that he could. He stretched out his legs and felt his knees pop, as if they’d been stuck in the same position for a long time. The water sloshed as he sat up, feeling at the back of his head where it was numb from resting on the edge of the tub. Empty syringes of Med-X and stimpaks littered the floor, as well as an empty bottle of Rad-X. He heard rapid footsteps from the other room.

“Nora?” he called, and his voice sounded rusty. How long had he been there?

“Hey, Hancock,” he heard from behind him and he twisted to see her leaning on the doorframe of the bathroom, a look of supreme satisfaction on her face. “Finally awake?”

“Ugh, what the fuck happened?” He tried to stand in the tub and found he was both weak and shaky and any movement caused his head to explode in pain. This was worse than any hangover he’d had in a long, long time. “You catch the brand on the Brahmin that stamped my head?”

“Sure did. It was Z2-47,” she said with a grin. She was extraordinarily happy about something, but he wasn’t sure he knew what.

“Huh?”

“The Courser shot you. Right in the back of the neck, the bastard. Must have gotten under your collar. You bled all over the place, and all over me, by the way.”

“Are you all right?” He tried to reach out to her and nearly fell over. But his worry for her was so strong that he kept trying.

“Relax, love, I’m fine. See the empty bottle?”

“What…how…?”

“I carried you…over my shoulder like a sack of tatoes, Deacon complaining about the rads the whole way. Buffout is a wonderful thing, by the by.”

He eyed her more carefully and saw she was nearly jumping out of her own skin, she’d taken so much of the strength enhancing chem. He again wondered how long he’d been out of it. He felt the back of his head again. It wasn’t numb from leaning on the edge of the tub, it was numb because she’d pumped him full of Med-X, right into his spine, it seemed. No wonder his legs didn’t want to cooperate. There was a new scar along the skin on the back of his neck and down across one shoulder blade, rough and patchy and still healing. He knew why he was in the tub now, and he thought he knew why she looked so pleased with herself.

“You put me in the tub and let me soak in irradiated water, didn’t you? You knew it would heal me.”

“I did better than that. Look.” He followed her pointing finger to see a dingy yellow barrel standing in the corner of the room. A black biohazard sign was emblazoned on it. Considering she was standing there unharmed, he assumed it was empty.

“How the fuck did you manage to get a nuclear waste barrel up those spiral stairs, and then dump it into my bathtub without dying? And where the hell did you find it?”

“Are you kidding me? They’re everywhere.” She grabbed a towel and briskly rubbed him down, letting him hold himself steady with a hand on her shoulder. She was quick and impersonal about it, but he still started to get erect, and she was right at eye level. He wasn’t even ashamed of himself. “Well, you do seem to be feeling better.”

“Nora, tell me how you did it.” He refused to get distracted, regardless of what his body wanted.

“Ham and the ghouls in the Watch helped me. And I pretty much used up all of the radiation chems before KLEO found me a hazmat suit.” She stood up again, wrapping him in the towel and helping him maneuver to a chair in the bedroom, where he collapsed like he was a hundred and two. Like a human hundred and two. He certainly felt it.

“How long did it take?”

“It’s been about a week.”

“Shit. I must have been pretty far gone.”

“Yeah, Deacon didn’t think you’d make it. A couple stimpaks got the blood to stop hemorrhaging, and the rads did the rest. You haven’t eaten though. You probably should.”

“Sunshine, have I told you lately how much I love you?”

“No, you haven’t. You’ve been unconscious in a bathtub full of radioactive sludge. I didn’t put you in water from the boiler until this morning.” She started to move away, and he snagged her hand in his. He kissed the back of it and she turned it palm up to caress his jaw.

“You saved my life.”

“We’re even, my love.” She planted a kiss on his forehead and went off to find him something to eat. She bounced out of the room like a bloatfly, seemingly so full of energy she didn’t know how to contain it. He was fairly certain she’d taken enough Buffout to climb the walls if she wanted to. She could probably single handedly take down the partition he’d put up in the ruined section of the building and rebuild the whole wing by herself at this point. With nothing but a hammer.

She stormed back in, a tray balanced on her hands. She handed him the water first and he found himself suddenly so thirsty he could have swallowed up the entire Charles River. Once he downed the glass, she poured him more from a carton and he forced himself to sip it slowly.

“Dandy Boy Apples or Sugar Bombs?” she asked cheekily, waving one box in each hand. He finally noticed what she was wearing as she stood there. She was wearing one of his shirts…and it appeared nothing else.

“Is that my shirt?” he croaked out. She glanced down at herself and blushed a bit. It was adorable. “Come here,” he beckoned.

She straddled his lap, still holding the food in her hands. Her eyes blazed with need and he knew the Buffout was exacerbating that need until it was a raging bonfire inside her. He slid his hands up her thighs and under the shirt, noting that no, she had nothing on under it.

“John,” she gasped out breathlessly. “You’re still hurt.”

“Oh, I think I’m recovered enough to do this.” He reached between her legs from behind and touched her and she nearly combusted. Her head fell back and her hands came to rest against the sides of the chair, dropping the food on the floor. He wrapped his other hand in her hair and brought her closer to kiss her, his mouth devouring hers as she moaned. He spread her open with two fingers, pushing them into her as far as they could go and she pulsed around them. “Gotta be careful with too much Buffout, Sunshine. It has, uh, interesting side effects.”

“I’ve…noticed…”

“They don’t call it performance enhancing without a reason. Good thing you’ve got me, huh?”

“Don’t stop, John…please…” He rubbed his fingertips along her slick flesh, stroking upwards to her butt. “I need you so much,” she whispered.

“I can tell,” he said against her lips, grinning as she squirmed and visibly tried to pull herself back when she remembered how injured he still was. But he pulled the towel open and pushed into her instead, taking advantage of her trying to stand up to get away to impale her on his hard cock. She made a sound between need and worry and he laughed roughly. “I’ll tell you what. I’ll let you do all the work.”

“That would be…awfully…noble of me…” She rode him fiercely, her need driving her passion as the chems gave her strength. He leaned back in the chair, indeed letting her do all the work. He wasn’t in pain exactly, but the numbness in his back and the weakness in his limbs told him he shouldn’t overdo it. It was worth it to feel her around him like a fist, to feel the slickness of her as she came hard on him, milking him, jolting him into his own climax. It was over practically before it began, but she sank against him replete and satisfied afterwards, and that’s all he cared about.

“Better?” he asked, smoothing his hand down her back, enjoying the silkiness of her hair as it flowed over him.

“Mm hmm,” she murmured into his chest. He chuckled.

“Now I’ll take that food, and I should get some sleep. Some real sleep.”

“I know.” She sat back up and looked at him closely. “I was worried, John. I didn’t know if it would actually work.”

“Now you do.”

“I was worried,” she repeated. He captured her hands and placed them on his heart.

“Hey, Sunshine, I’m still here. I’m indestructible, remember?”

“Huh. You’re a shameless idiot, is what you are. You could have died.” Tears formed in her eyes, hanging to her lashes. He smiled a little and kissed her.

“But I didn’t,” he said when he released her. “And I’ll be back to normal in a few days. I promise, Sunshine.”

“You always keep your promises.”

“Yes.”

“All right, Mr. Mayor, time to put you to bed.” She stood up and wiped herself off before helping him stand. He leaned on her to get to the bed, knowing the chems were still in her system and she could handle it. She probably could have carried him like a baby if she wanted. She tucked him in with some food and curled up by his side. Just the simple act of eating made him tired, and he was asleep before she was, for a change, but he still felt her hand on his heartbeat as he drifted off.

***

The next time he woke he saw a rather startling sight. She had moved a small table into the room to use as a desk. She sat in the hard backed chair, her tricorn hat – the one she wore as General of the Minutemen – hanging off the edge of it, as she worked on something. She was once again dressed in the dark blue coat and armor. She had a lit cigarette in her hand and was so intent on whatever it was she was reading that she hadn’t noticed that he was awake and watching her. He watched her drag on the cigarette, fingers curled gracefully, smoke wreathing her head, as she flipped through the pages in front of her.

It struck him as so suddenly erotic that he nearly bolted out of the bed to take her right there at his desk. He’d never seen her smoke before. He hadn’t known it would affect him like this. The ease with which she held the cigarette told him this was not the first time she’d done it.

She shuffled the papers she’d been reading back into a neat pile and put them in a folder, then opened the next one and started on those, idly tapping off the end of her smoke into an astray without even looking. He lay back against the pile of pillows she liked having mounded on the bed and just watched her. Fahrenheit stepped into the room quietly and spoke low enough that he couldn’t hear what she said even a few feet away, but Nora nodded and reached for a pen. She seemed to be doing his job for him.

She glanced up in what appeared to be a routine check on him and saw he was awake. Her smile could light up a room. Fahr looked over at him and there was relief in his daughter’s eyes. Enough to make him consider just how close to death he’d been. He tended to be cavalier about his own life and wellbeing. He wasn’t kidding when he said that as a ghoul he was fairly indestructible. Rads could help him heal, and could help his body regenerate just about anything…that hadn’t been cut off completely, that is. He often wondered if the only way to kill him would be to decapitate him, or if even that wouldn’t do it. Every ghoul he’d talked to about it agreed; even those that had lost limbs could reattach them given the right circumstances. So he was careless and reckless with his safety, feeling like he had an ability that gave him an edge.

It had never occurred to him that others might truly care for him and that he would no longer wish to be so reckless because of it. And that was Nora’s doing. He had changed. Seeing Fahrenheit’s relief that he was going to be all right was changing him, even as he lay in his bed, still recovering. It would affect her if he died, and probably not just because she would have to find a new job.

Hancock was not an overly introspective person, but this brush with death might make him so. Certainly he knew he wanted to go on living now that he knew what he had. The love of those two women might just be enough to erase the years of self-doubt and loathing he’d felt ever since his lard head of a brother had made the first move that took him on this path. Maybe not completely, but enough that he would fight to keep what was his because it mattered and not just because he could.

“Hello, ladies,” he said, his voice more gravelly than he’d ever heard it.

“Hey there, bad boy,” Nora said with a smile. Even Fahr was unsuccessfully hiding a smile.

“Dad,” she drawled sarcastically. His mouth quirked. She wasn’t really angry, he saw, that he’d told Nora. If anything, they seemed closer because of it. A strong bond was between them, he could see it in the trusting angle of Fahr’s shoulders, in the easy smile on Nora’s face as she looked at his daughter. “You’re lucky she loves your ghoul ass so much or I’d have to kill you. And then she’d be pissed off and probably try to kill _me_.”

“You love him too,” Nora retorted quietly.

“Yeah,” Fahr sighed dramatically. “I guess I do.”

Fahr nodded at something Nora said that he didn’t catch, and left the upper floor of the State House. Nora stubbed out the cigarette and brushed ashes off her blue General’s coat. Her hands were bare, the gloves she normally wore with the outfit tucked into her belt. She crossed the room leisurely, and she sat in another chair she’d pulled up to the bed.

“We need to talk,” she said. He didn’t think it was about his recovery.

“You got the chip from the Courser, I take it?”

“Yes, which means I need to get it decoded. Tinker Tom can do it, and that means I won’t have to travel all the way back to Sanctuary Hills without you. But we need to talk about what happens…after.”

“You mean what happens once you disappear into a puff of smoke? Nora…” He reached out a hand for hers and her warm fingers laced with his as if they’d been doing it all their lives instead of just a few short months. “I’ve always known that you would find a way to get inside the Institute, once you knew it was your end goal. I know I can’t be there every step of the way. I don’t know what the future holds for you, for us. I do know that I’m not going to waste time pondering things we can’t change. If you make it back, I’ll be here. If not...if not, I’ll mourn you and remember just how much I loved you.” He pulled her gently off the chair and down onto the bed next to him. “Either way, I hope you know that. I hope you know just how much I love you.”

“I do, John,” and she sounded like she was going to cry. She rested her head on his shoulder, swinging her legs onto the bed so that she lay along the length of him. “As I love you. I…I almost wish I didn’t have to go.”

“But you do. You have to find him, one way or the other.” He ran his hand down her back, holding her close. “Hey, I knew what I was getting into, Sunshine. I knew where this was headed.”

Nora raised her head and looked at him, memorizing his face anew. Black eyes, scarred cheek and missing nose, she took it all in with wonder and admiration. “I’ll find a way to come back to you.”

“I’ll hold you to that, then,” he said. She scooted up the bed so she could kiss him. It was warm and affectionate, not meant to be passionate or enticing. But he was entranced just the same. He’d never tire of her touch, he knew that. And when she’d left to talk to the Railroad and he was alone with his thoughts, he knew the darkness waiting for him if she didn’t return would never cease. 

Tinker Tom had the chip decoded in a flash of brilliance even Nora was impressed with, she told him when she got back. He also had given her a holotape with a network scanner to download everything she could find onto once she got inside.

“This is really happening, isn’t it?” she mused, lounging on the bed next to him. As much as he enjoyed having her near him, he wished he could wrap himself up in her. He wondered if this was how she felt every time she was hurt and he tended her. Now he understood her frustrations about it better.

“Yes, this is really happening. Nora, my one and only Sunshine, you should go. Don’t wait for me to get better. The sooner you go, the sooner you get back.”

“No. I have no idea what’s waiting for me. I need to fuck you to death again before I go.” She said it deadpanned, and he wanted to laugh, except for one desperate moment he thought he might cry. “So, you need to work on getting better, all right?”

“All right,” he whispered.

“I hate the Commonwealth,” she said darkly, standing up to take off her clothes. He tried not to get too distracted since he knew he should be listening. “I hate the weather, I hate the food, I hate that all my favorite places harbor bigots or monsters. I hate all the fucking work I do that gets attacked by raiders. I hate that I can’t swim in the water without loading up on chems. I hate that I have no hot water at home…seriously, I need you to do something about that,” she paused in her tirade to shoot at him. He nodded dutifully.

“I hate wearing a gun everywhere, and this goddamned Pip-Boy that weighs a ton.” She crawled onto the bed, naked and gleaming in the lamplight and he grew more distracted by her, his hands reaching up to her skin of their own volition. She let them.

“I hate the dirty looks I get when we’re in public, even from my own people who should know better. I hate that I have to go down the rabbit hole into the unknown Institute without you at my side. You’re the one thing in this blasted out, fucked up, shitty world that I do not hate.” She pulled the covers off him and straddled him. He was hard and ready for her, but she sat forward, almost on his stomach and wouldn’t let him guide himself into her waiting body. He was propped up against the pillows and her breasts were in his face, but he didn’t know if she was done complaining and he could get on with it or not.

“John, if I get back from the Institute, promise me we’ll go somewhere nice. Somewhere quiet and peaceful and beautiful. Promise me we’ll make love under the stars. Promise me I won’t have to answer to anyone or anything but you.”

“I promise, Sunshine.” He stroked his hands up her sides, cupping her ribcage, digging his fingers into what little flesh she had. “Are you finished?”

“Yeah,” she sighed. “I think so.”

“Can we fuck now?”

“What makes you think we’re going to fuck?” she asked archly, leaning back out of his reach. He grinned.

“You’re naked on top of me, in case you hadn’t noticed.”

“Hmm, I guess I am.” She had a devilish look in her eye and before he knew it, she had leapt off his body and turned around, planting her face near his thigh.

“What are you up to, Vaultsicle?”

“Me? Nothing.” She stroked a single finger along the length of his erection and he shivered. Her touch was light, almost so light he couldn’t feel it, but he did. Oh, he did. Then she replaced her finger with her tongue and he thought his heart might just stop beating. His hands knotted in the sheets and he tried to remember to breathe.

Then her mouth covered the head of his cock and he didn’t think he’d ever breathe again. Or think. Or move. She wrapped one hand around him and stroked him while her mouth did things he didn’t know it could do. “Nora…” he gasped. “You…better…have taken…”

She released him with a lick. “Shut up, John.”

“Yes, ma’am,” he stammered as she descended on him once more. She took as much as she could into her mouth and he groaned and bucked involuntarily. She held him down with a hand on his abdomen. With her mouth still wrapped around his cock, she laughed. It vibrated out of her throat and through his flesh and he just about reached where he needed to go, but the thought still rattling around his otherwise empty head stopped him. Where was the Rad-X? Had she taken one? Did she know what she was do…

She sucked, hard. And he came so explosively he shouted.

He was a helpless, boneless pile of Brahmin jerky. That was all. All he was. He watched her wipe her mouth on a towel – and he assumed, spit out his come; he did not want to think about her swallowing that – and she grinned at him evilly.

“I knew it,” he gasped out when he could. “ _You’ll_ be the death of me.”

“Not quite yet,” she said, touching him again with a single finger. He twitched and made a noise like an animal in pain. He’d never heard himself sound like that before. Her grin broadened. “Well, that was fun.”

“You gotta let me return the favor, Sunshine.”

“No…I think I won’t. You need to get better. Think of that as…incentive.” He growled at that, but she laughed at him and danced out reach. “I’m taking a bath,” she announced from the other room and he was so totally outdone that all he could was lay there and plan his revenge.

 _Oh, Sunshine, it’s gonna be sweet_.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fidelity: the act of being loyal or the purity of a recorded sound, like music…or radio signals. It was high time Hancock paid for his recklessness. Nora can’t always be the one getting injured. That’s just too trope-y. 
> 
> For those of you who have never been truly unconscious (lucky you), hearing is the final sense to be lost with consciousness, as well as the first to return. I can clearly remember after my first spinal surgery that I could not move, could not open my eyes, but I could hear my doctor talking with a nurse. It was quite a while before I fully woke up, but I remember hearing them talk about my blood pressure and vitals as I lay in recovery. I remember this because they thought my numbers were too low without knowing that I just have naturally low blood pressure.


	14. Faith

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which there is worry and concern over the future, and Nora goes on the one journey Hancock cannot join.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> “Promise me you’ll get home,” he choked out, resting his forehead on hers. She pushed his tricorn back until it sat on the back of his head. Hers had already fallen off to plop on the floor.
> 
> “I will do my damnedest.”
> 
> “You better, Sunshine. Now, how ‘bout we get this thing done, eh?”
> 
> “I’m ready.”
> 
> She stroked her hand along the edge of the crib one last time and scooped up her hat. She kept her other hand in his.

The northern part of the Commonwealth was the same, as always. Settlers worked on houses, patching walls and roofs, putting in windows and doors ahead of the coming winter. Hancock and Nora arrived in the early afternoon, the sun slanting behind them, on a cool, crisp day nearly three weeks after his brush with death. The leaves were starting to change on what few trees were still living, and the air smelled of wood smoke from fires and burning oil from generators and turrets.

They’d traveled slowly from Goodneighbor, stopping to rest often. They visited Hangman’s Alley where Hancock had a chance to solidify his trade agreement with the settlers for armor to be shipped and sold through KLEO. And in Graygarden, he helped Nora build an extensive apartment-like arrangement stretching out over the valley on stilts. On the first floor she put sofas and chairs and tables, while upstairs she laid thickly padded sleeping bags side by side, filling the space. She set up a radio beacon to attract new settlers. The robots already had an established garden there, and there was no need to add to it, so all the large area needed was people and protection. He’d watched her make enough turrets that he was able to lend a hand assembling them before hefting one onto the rooftop of the greenhouse and another on a tall scaffold facing the train tracks.

They meandered towards Sanctuary Hills by way of Abernathy Farm, where they found Blake and his family winterizing the homes and preparing the fields where they grew tatoes and melons to lie fallow until spring. Their Brahmin had given birth finally to a soft, cow eyed calf who bleated at them with its two heads, and they were rightfully pleased to see their small herd growing.

“Blake and Connie have a real way with animals,” Nora said. “It makes me wonder what else they could be raising. Radstags, maybe.”

“Why would anyone want to raise radstags? They’re vicious.”

“So was that bull Brahmin before Blake got him domesticated. Aren’t you tired of walking everywhere?”

“What, you think if we could domesticate radstags that we could…ride them? Like…ride them?”

“Yeah. They’re the size of horses, easy. You’d have to start’em young enough, but I think it could be done.”

“Woman, you’re insane.”

“But you love me.”

“I do,” he sighed in agreement, taking her hand in his. “The things you come up with.”

She grinned sheepishly. He could tell she’d been thinking about it and pondered it himself. He had to admit, it would be nice not to have to walk everywhere in the Commonwealth, and a properly trained radstag would still be pretty formidable against any attacker. He tried to imagine the trip from Goodneighbor to Sanctuary only taking a few hours instead of overnight and thought maybe her idea wasn’t so crazy.

“Hey, I’d say it’s worth a go. As long as you don’t try to branch out into yao guai and deathclaws, I think you’ll be okay.”

She gasped in mock amazement. “Just think of what riding a deathclaw would be like, though!”

“Ugh, I’m sorry I said anything.” She smooshed her face into his and he laughed, kissing the tip of her nose. The last few days had been like this with her, crazy impetuous moments mixed in with the heavy dread he knew she was feeling. It was like she was trying to cram a whole lifetime’s worth of emotion into a few days.

With that in mind, at the Red Rocket he pulled her off the road and into the snug office where she had her cot.

“What, now?” she joked, not at all fighting him.

“Hmm, always,” he purred, tugging open her coat and unbuttoning her pants. The whim took him and he followed, feeling as much dread as she about their future. He bent her over the bed, not even bothering to lay her down on it and pushed into her without preamble. It didn’t matter, he soon found. She was ready for him. She was almost always ready for him. She groaned and pushed back against him like something wild and he rode her hard, spilling into her in seconds. It was quick and dirty and almost passionless, except that it was them, and there was always passion involved. He hadn’t even kissed her, he realized, and took his time about it after, his fingers stroking between her legs until she was shaking with need. Then he dropped her back onto the thin mattress of the cot and pushed her pants down enough that he could get under them. He devoured her until she came against his tongue.

“That was…unexpected,” she teased when he finally let her go, neatly sliding out from the confines of her pants around her knees to lay on top of her.

“I didn’t want to wait.” He rested his weight on her. “I don’t want to share you before I have to.”

“Oh, Hancock,” she said, her hand on his cheek. “You know you never have to share me.”

“I’ll be sharing you soon enough if everything goes according to plan.”

“You mean if I come back from this trip with Shaun?”

“Yeah.”

She looked away, as if she didn’t really know what to say. When she looked back at him she smiled. “I’ll always make time for you, you know that, right?”

“I know, love.” He stroked the loose tendrils of her hair back from her face with a small smile quirking his lips. “It’s not a competition, I know that too. I just hope your son knows what he’s gettin’ for a…what…surrogate? Step-father?”

She giggled. “Is that what you want to be? A step-father?”

“Don’t think I can manage, huh?” he asked, mock affronted. She leaned up and kissed him.

“No, I think you’d do a pretty good job, chem use notwithstanding.”

“S’not like it’s my first time.” He ignored her remark about his chem use. _That_ was an issue for another day.

“Your haphazard experience with Fahr doesn’t count,” she said. She pushed him off and stood to clean herself up while he watched. She pulled up her pants and buttoned them under her blue General’s coat, becoming again the leader of the Minutemen and not just his lover. “You know, I love how you just assume I’ll be coming back with Shaun. Like there’s no other outcome you can imagine.”

“I just want to stay hopeful,” he said, lounging on the cot, boots propped up on the rail at the foot of it. He tucked his hands behind his head and watched her move around the small room. He would never get tired of just watching her. Even better if she was naked, but he’d take what he could get. “I don’t know what I’d do without you,” he said softly, almost so low she didn’t hear. But she did, and she stopped pacing to sit on the edge of the cot where she put her hand on his heart, like she always did. The warm fuzzy feeling he always got when she touched him was mixed with something like sorrow. No matter the front he tried to put on it, there was just no telling what the future would bring. If these were their last hours together – which he had to face as a possibility – then he wanted to spend them as happily as he could manage. “I love you, Nora.”

“I love you, John.”

***

She said she needed a minute and went into Shaun’s room. He closed the front door, practically in Preston Garvey’s face, with a low warning that they weren’t to be disturbed. Garvey took it well and corralled the others who’d come running when they were spotted. Hancock went down the hall to the smallish room opposite from hers and stood in the doorway, unwittingly standing in exactly the same spot her husband once had, watching her stand over the crib where their infant son had been. She touched the mobile still hanging crookedly by a thread above it.

“I wish I could hear it one more time,” she said. “Nate had just finished fixing it…that day. Before it had sounded all out of tune and wonky, but he’d messed with the music box and it was perfect. For one moment, at least.”

“You don’t talk about it much,” Hancock said.

“No, I don’t,” she replied simply. “I don’t know if it was because I was afraid this moment would never come and I didn’t want to jinx it, or if I knew it wouldn’t and it was pointless. Either way, I won’t be needing this crib anyway, because my baby isn’t a baby anymore.” She shrugged and looked over her shoulder at him, rueful and sad. “And there won’t be any more babies.”

“Hey, don’t count it out. You might meet some suave smoothskin and have your way with him.”

“Oh, love, I don’t think anyone could replace you.” He crossed the room still decorated with posters and toys and the ratty old crib and put his arms around her from behind.

“I know I’m irreplaceable and all, but I still think it could happen. Take enough chems and even you could get into a threesome.”

“That’s terrible,” she chortled. “And you don’t even sound like you’d be that jealous if I did.”

“I’m pretty pragmatic, love. I got you, the rest is just details and drug paraphernalia.” She turned in his arms, smiling as he’d hoped. She swatted him hard on the arm before nestling under his chin. “Ow.”

“Pfft, you’re not hurt, don’t even give me that shit.”

“There’s my girl,” he said. “I’ve missed that particular keen edge.”

“Oh, John…” He covered her mouth with his, smothering her words. She clung to him, her hands desperately tight around his neck. He wanted nothing more than to carry her off and pretend the Institute didn’t even exist, but that wouldn’t change anything for her. He had to keep it up, had to keep up the cheerfulness and the hope that everything would work out fine. He knew that if he didn’t, she would fall apart too, and that was unthinkable. When he finally let her go, she was breathless and flushed.

“I got you, what else do I need?”

“Chems?”

“Cute.”

“I am,” she said, throwing his own words back at him from what seemed so long ago. It was hard to believe it had only been six months since she breezed into his life, wounded and wary. He couldn’t imagine a single hour without her now. She had wiped his slate clean, forgiven him all his sins and couldn’t keep her hands off him. He knew how blessed he was. He knew how precious she was. The reality came crashing down around him, dispelling his carefree façade.

“Promise me you’ll get home,” he choked out, resting his forehead on hers. She pushed his tricorn back until it sat on the back of his head. Hers had already fallen off to plop on the floor.

“I will do my damnedest.”

“You better, Sunshine. Now, how ‘bout we get this thing done, eh?”

“I’m ready.”

She stroked her hand along the edge of the crib one last time and scooped up her hat. She kept her other hand in his.

***

The giant machine stood on an empty lot where a house used to be. They’d scrapped it all to make room for the molecular relay, and all that was left was to connect it to power. Nora had her decoded Courser signal, and the network scanner that would hack into the Institute systems and download all their content. Once it was plugged into a power source, she would be as ready to go as she could be.

“This is a one way shot,” Sturges said once everyone had gotten a good look at the thing. There were pipes, vents, dishes, huge arches and a platform where she would stand. “I hope you know that.”

“I do, Sturges,” Nora said, her voice brisk. She looked over the machinery again. “I’ll have to find my own way home.”

“General, this is awful risky,” Garvey said, worry in his tone. Hancock knew it was echoed by nearly everyone, but Nora just smiled. It was sad and closed on her face, but he read in her eyes how determined she was and said nothing. There was nothing left to say.

“It _is_ risky. But I have to take this chance. You know that. You don’t need me anymore, Preston. The Minutemen are strong again. If…if I don’t come back, pass on the Generalship to Ronnie. She’s got what it takes, even if she’s a bit brusque.”

“You’ll be back, General. I know it.”

“Preston, I appreciate the optimism, I really do. But a contingency plan would not be amiss, all right?”

“All right.”

“Shall we get’er going, boss?” Sturges asked into the silence. Nora nodded once and went into what Hancock privately called her workshop mode. She tuned out everything and everyone and got to building a huge pair of generators alongside the mechanic. After some debate, they started a third. Once they were built, they hooked them up to each other so only one line connected the power sources to the relay. It took hours and the light was fading fast before they had it all done. But it rumbled with power and the console blinked and bleeped, accepting the courser signal without a problem.

“Tomorrow,” Nora said to no one in particular. Hancock breathed a sigh of relief. He had one more night before she was gone.

Sanctuary Hills gathered that night in a sort of celebration. They built a bonfire in the field down by the river and everyone brought something to contribute to a feast. There was a party atmosphere, tinged only slightly with nervous worry for their beloved General. There was music, and someone had laid out a large square of planking for dancing. Nora had changed from the blue General’s coat to the red dress he loved so much, although she was cold once the sun went down and the October chill entered the air. He draped his frockcoat over her shoulders and danced with her in his arms.

“My birthday is coming,” she said into his shoulder, her voice muffled against his shirt.

“Yeah, when?”

“The 23rd.” She sounded choked up and he did the math. The day the bombs fell had been her birthday.

“Jesus, Nora. Oh, my love.” He held her tight. She had lost so much; it was unimaginable. “So…how old will you be?”

“237.” Now she sounded like she was laughing and he smiled into her hair. Something cracked anew inside his heart. She was strong, so strong. She’d come so far in less than a year. But he couldn’t begin to comprehend all that she’d lost. All the things he couldn’t replace no matter how hard he tried.

“You cougar,” he said aloud, a little rough at the edges. “And here I am only 48.”

She brought up her head and gazed at him, so much love in her eyes he could barely stand it. “My babe in arms.”

And she kissed him in front of the whole gathering, something she’d never done before. When she pulled away, her eyes were shining with unshed tears. “There’s something I want to give you tonight, John.”

He didn’t think she meant anything physical and he merely nodded, keeping her in his arms as they danced.

A strange lulling mood had come over them and while it was somewhat uncomfortable, he also didn’t want it to end. That would mean they were creeping ever closer to the time she would disappear. When the music was done, and settlers began drifting off one by one to seek their beds, Nora took his hand and walked with him to the quiet spot where they’d buried Nate. A simple small plinth marked it.

“There are no rituals left,” she said, grazing her fingers over the cut stone, “to mark the passing of those we’ve lost. No comfort in faith, no tokens of remembrance. In this new world, a cemetery is only a place you’ll likely find ferals. The meaning behind it has been lost.” He stood quietly by her side, wondering what she was getting at. “I didn’t want that for Nate. I don’t want that for myself.”

She faced him then, and he could see she’d been crying silently, the tears steaking down her cheeks. He wiped them away with his thumb. She took his hand and pressed something small and warm into it. When he looked, he saw it was a ring of gold.

“Nora…”

“I want you to wear it, and I want you to understand what it symbolizes. It is the union of two people, who have agreed to commit themselves to each other.” She held up the hand bearing the ring’s twin. “I don’t know what’s going to happen tomorrow, any more than I knew what was going to happen that day we stepped into the Vault. So much of my life has ended, or changed beyond recognition. But this idea, at least for me, has not. I once had a dream of spending my life with the man I loved, of raising a family with him, of living out our lives together in harmony and happiness. And it was stolen from me, by Kellogg, by the Institute. Nate is gone, but the dream is not.”

She cupped her hands on his face, searching it in the moonlight. He felt humbled and raw under her gaze, speechless and breathless. “You are my dream now, John Hancock. You are the man I love, the man I want to spend my years with, the face I see when I close my eyes, the hands I feel in my sleep. I want you to wear this ring, so you don’t forget that.”

He closed his fingers around the slim band, holding it to his chest. “I swear to you, Nora Howard, I will never forget that.”

“Good.” She pressed herself against him and looked down on the stone marking her husband’s grave. “Good.”

She was quiet as they walked down the empty street to her house. Streetlights cast a glow over everything, but the shadows were deep between them. They held hands as they strolled, and when they reached the house she looked at it for a while before going in, like she was memorizing it.

“I’m sorry my heavy mood ruined your plans,” she said, slipping off the frockcoat and draping it over the back of a chair. He began to stoke up the fire in the fireplace, driving away the chill in the house. _At least the windows have glass again_ , he thought.

“My plans will keep,” he said, striving for lightness. “Something for you to look forward to when you get home.”

“If I get home.”

“You will. Nothing else matters but that thought. And hey, you promised.” He twirled the ring in his fingers, looking at it in the light. He slid it onto his finger and was surprised to find that it fit. Had Nate been so small then? Or had she been planning this long enough to get the size changed? And how?

“Your thoughts?” she said into the silence.

“We’re a matched pair,” he said, musingly. “Opposite sides of the same cap. Beautiful and ugly, clarity and chaos.”

“Brains and…well, I’m not that brawny, but…”

“Heh. I’m not that brainy.”

“Yes you are. You know you are. My renaissance man.”

“What does that mean?”

“You can cook, sew, perform surgery, bake bread, kill without compunction, fuck like you’re dying, keep a scrappy place like Goodneighbor together…I could keep going, ya know. You can do it all, even when you’re high as a kite.”

“None of it matters without you.” He shook his head. “Not Goodneighbor, not the people I’ve helped, or killed for that matter, not the whole goddamned Commonwealth, nothing.”

“Junkyard dogs. We fight for what’s ours, and take no prisoners. I remember,” she added when he looked up at her sharply.

“And I’ve fought to have you. You’re a thoroughbred now, Sunshine. I have never seen a more beautiful person than you. I have never had the privilege to touch anything as divine. You say there is no faith left in the world. But I have faith in you.”

“Thank you, my love. That means the world to me. I’ll never stop fighting to have you, too.” He crossed the room and tucked her into his embrace. He kissed her forehead, her nose and finally her lips.

“To hell and back. Always and forever.” She sighed heavily and wrapped her arms around him.

They went to bed, and he held her all night, never sleeping, never taking his eyes off her for a second. The impending pain was searing, but for now, he had her and that was all that counted. In the early morning hours, before the sun was even up, they were greeted with a radstorm. It filled the sky with green and crackling arcs of atomic charged electricity. They lay in bed together, watching the storm through the window. Hancock grunted as she elbowed him in the gut rolling over to get her Rad-X.

 _Just another morning_ , he tried to tell himself. _Just another day_.

“John?”

“Hmm?”

“You wanna fuck me now?” she purred in his ear.

He thought about laughing, or crying. Instead he tackled her into the pillows, burying his face in the crook of her neck, tickling her with his teeth. She made a choked sound and laughed, making him harder than the storm alone could do. She arched into his touch, his rough hands sliding across her breasts and belly, sweeping low to her hips and legs. He wrapped her around him and sank into her warmth slowly, savoring every inch. He took it slow and steady, letting it build around them, like the storm. The waves of pleasure crested in her and he felt her throb around him, a velvet fist.

He didn’t stop until it built up again…and again. He never wanted it to end. He had no idea how long he made love to her. But the storm had ended before he finally emptied into her, and she was sweaty and gorgeous in the morning light. He wanted to remember her this way, her hair like a ribbon of fire across the bed, her eyes glazed over with such fervent joy that his own pricked with tears. He wanted to hear her cries in his ear, and taste her sweat on his tongue. He wanted the whole fucking world to disappear instead of her.

But there was a knock at the door, and reality came down like broken glass.

“General, it’s time,” they heard Preston call through the door.

Hancock kept a hold of Nora, touching for one more moment, before he slid out of her and sat up. They were silent as they dressed and ate breakfast and did all the normal, routine things that started their days together, until he couldn’t stand it anymore. “How long?” Hancock asked in a growl.

“What?”

“How long should we wait before we assume the worst?”

“I don’t know. I have no idea what to expect, what I’ll find. I may be shot on sight, or I may fight my way through it all singlehandedly. Wouldn’t be the first time I’ve faced those sorts of odds.” She curled her fingers around a mug of steaming hubflower and wild thistle tea. “If you hear nothing in a week, I’d say…I’d say you could…”

“A week, then. I’ll keep my ears to the ground, in case…in case you show up somewhere else.” They both knew that was not was he was going to say, but enough dark and foreboding things had been said. He needed to stay optimistic, now more than ever. She nodded in agreement and finished her tea.

She dressed in road leathers and combat armor. She strapped her favorite 10mm to her hip, tucked Pickman’s knife in its sheath on her other hip and swept her hair up into a ponytail. The blank holotape went into a pocket and a tin of assorted Mentats went into another. She was as ready as she was going to get. Before they went through the door, she held his face in her hands and kissed him hard.

“I love you,” she whispered. And that was that.

A crowd had gathered around the teleporter, but Sturges held them back far enough out of the way that Nora and Hancock walked right up. She stood on the central platform and tried not to let him see how her hands shook. The roar from the generators was loud, and the air fairly crackled with intensity as the relay warmed up.

“All right, I’m not sure what this will do, so hold still,” Sturges called out over the din. Nora nodded. Hancock backed away, coming to stand next to Garvey, who looked grim. Hancock would be willing to bet they all did. “It’s nearly there,” Sturges shouted.

“Our Father, who art in Heaven,” Nora said quietly, her voice just barely reaching his ears over the sound of the machinery coming to peak. Her eyes never left his. “Hallowed be Thy name. Thy Kingdom come, Thy will be done, on Earth as it is in Heaven…”

There was a shocking blue electric arc that filled the space where Nora had been and then there was only the sound of the power generators cycling down as Sturges turned them off.

“…Give us this day our daily bread, and forgive our trespasses, as we forgive those who trespass against us. Lead us not into temptation, but deliver us from evil. For Thine is the kingdom, and the power and the glory. Forever and ever, amen.” Garvey’s voice was low, but clear in the sudden quiet after everything shut off. There was a finality in the silence of the machine. It wouldn’t work a second time.

Garvey raised his face to the sky and closed his eyes. “Yea, though I walk through the Valley of the Shadow of Death, I shall fear no evil, for Thou art with me,” he quoted. Hancock thought it sounded ominous but appropriate. He didn’t ask what it was from. Garvey turned to face him. “I didn’t know Nora was religious.”

“I didn’t know you were,” Hancock said.

Garvey looked at him for a long moment, but saw no judgement in Hancock one way or the other. “We should all be praying,” the Minuteman said.

“Amen.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was a particularly hard chapter to write, dear reader, and I know it came out a little short. It bounced around just about every emotion there is, high and low. There were only so many words I could string together to express Hancock’s dread of losing his Vaultsicle. I know it got really heavy there at the end, but I feel like it would for them. We, as players, know how the story ends, but they, as characters, do not. I feel like the doubts and fears would have been present. Anyway…your thoughts?
> 
> Also, with the holidays coming, this will probably be the last chapter of this posted until after New Year's. I promise to be back in January. Wishing all you dear readers a bountiful and peaceful holiday season, and great joy in the new year.


	15. Miles to Go Before I Sleep

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Hancock keeps himself busy and makes a big decision.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> “We need to destroy that place, John,” she said quietly as she went through her case of weapons, looking for something specific. “We need to tear it all down. And I have a feeling the only way I can do it is from the inside. I have to gain their trust before I can be easy about going back and forth. Take the information on that holotape and get working on a strategy. Tell Preston and Sturges, tell Deacon and Dez. But keep it secret from everyone else. Sh…Father would turn on me in a second if he knew.”
> 
> “Who is Father?”
> 
> “He’s the Director, their leader.” He hadn’t missed the name she’d started to say and cut off.
> 
> “And he’s your son,” he said flatly.
> 
> “Yes,” she replied, just as flat.

The atmosphere in Sanctuary Hills was strange that day. Hancock spent most of his time sitting on her patio, drinking a beer slowly, watching her settlers try to regain some semblance of normalcy, going about their daily routines as if she was just off on another mission for the Minutemen or visiting another settlement. But there was a palpable undercurrent. More than once Hancock saw Garvey standing at the platform of the teleporter, just staring, his laser musket slung low in his hands, his face pointed in the direction they knew the Institute was. He would have scoffed at such devoted worry if he wasn’t feeling it himself.

As the day waned and they heard nothing – since they hadn’t expected to anyway – he got up from his spot and decided, if nothing else, he could pretend it was just another day too. He hadn’t forgotten her offhand comment about hot water during her tirade against life. He meant to make good on that directive.

He took stock of her collected junk parts, and decided there was more than enough copper, steel, gears and oil to rig something up that would heat water for her and pipe it into the house. He worked into the night, not really caring about the darkness or the quiet of the community as they settled down to sleep. He found the ladder she used when she was working on houses and set it up against the back of her place, climbing up on the battered roof to see what kind of space he had to take advantage of gravity. There were enough gaps and holes between the metal sheets she’d repaired her house with that he found he could run a pipe through it to her bathroom.

The next problem he had to tackle was the fact that she only had a shower stall in her bathroom. He wanted her to have a tub. Not much point in having hot water at your command if you wasted all of it down the drain, he figured. He knew there were bathtubs aplenty all over the place, and decided to wait until morning so he could get some people to help him move one.

Sturges and Garvey himself helped him carry an old porcelain tub from the pile of workshop odds and ends into the house, where he scoured it clean with Abraxo. Sturges proved to be a good helper with the pipes too, and before long they had all the plumbing worked out. They tested it with regular water from a pump before getting down to building a water heater.

“You need a tank for the water,” Sturges said in his laconic way. “Needs to be big enough to hold it, keep it warm and refill somehow.”

“In Goodneighbor we use a boiler that draws from the groundwater with a pump. I don’t worry about it being purified, but Nora…”

“Yeah, she needs it to be clean.” Sturges’s brow furrowed as he thought about it. “Lemme get back to you. I got some ideas, but I need to work’em out on paper.”

“Sure,” Hancock said.

He took a look at how her purifier system worked down at the stream. The water itself came from a pond to the northeast, rushing and burbling over stones and junk, wrapping around the whole of Sanctuary Hills, making it an island unto itself. Most of the rushing stream was shallow, never getting deeper than his waist. Only the pond itself was deep, and even then was probably no more than ten feet or so. Her house was too far away from the widest portion of the stream –that was where she’d built a pair of big water purifiers for the community – but a narrower part ran behind her house, down in a small ravine. He knew if he followed the path that led off from the back of her yard, he’d find a small bridge that led up to where Vault 111 was hidden underground.

If they could attach some kind of pump to that part of the waterway, and into a purifier, they’d be in business. The only bit left to work out was how to heat it. In the State House, he and Fahr had built a boiler, keeping it well stocked with wood and other flammables to keep it hot. He could do something like that here too, he supposed. At least wood was plentiful around Sanctuary Hills, not like in Goodneighbor where he doled out hundreds of caps a week to keep his furnace working when he was in residence.

Sturges approved of his idea, and they got to work. There wasn’t enough copper to build a tank out of it, but they were able to convert an old refrigerator – stripped of its interior and shelves, and the door welded shut – to serve. It was well insulated and would keep the hot water at an even temperature even if the fire underneath went out. At least for a while. It held enough water to fill the tub once, depending on how hot she wanted it.

“It’ll do,” Sturges said when they were finished. “I gotta get my head around feelin’ like it’s wasteful though. Ya know, we’ve gotten so used to thinking about just surviving that the idea of hot water has become a luxury. Maybe it’s time we start thinking about rigging up all the houses this way. It’s time to rebuild, the right way. Hot water shouldn’t be such a luxury.”

“No, you’re right. When I think about how easy Nora had it in the past…” Hancok shook his head. “Having indoor plumbing shouldn’t be such a difficult concept. Gotta be careful though,” he cautioned, wiping his dirty hands off on a leather smock Sturges had handed to him when they started working. “That pond doesn’t hold enough water for all of Sanctuary to use indefinitely. It’s too shallow and wouldn’t fill back up, unless the used water flowed back into it.”

“Yeah. We need a circular system or sumthin’.”

“Well, the stream is already a circle. If you utilize the natural path of the flow, it would go back into the pond on its own.”

“Yeah, I’ll put my mind to it.”

The two men got back to work and fell into a companionable silence. Hancock hadn’t spent much time with the mechanic before all this, but found he enjoyed his company greatly. He didn’t say much, but when he did, it was always useful. Hancock got the impression that Sturges was often overlooked. He wasn’t a Minuteman, but he could hold his own. And his knowledge of all things mechanical was astounding.

That night they lit the fire under the refrigerator tank they’d built and listened to it fill as the stream pushed water up into the pipes. It hissed and rattled at first, but finally settled as more water emptied into the tank, dispersing the energy from the fire more evenly. The first time he opened the tap on the tub and felt the hot water on his hands, he smiled at his own ingenuity.

“Promise kept,” he said to himself. Now she just needed to find a way home to use it.

***

A few days later he was up on the roof again, tightening the pipes to make them more efficient and wrapping them in asbestos to hold the heat, when he saw Deacon standing in front of the house, watching him.

“Can we talk?” the Railroad spy asked.

“Sure, give me a minute.”

Deacon met him in the kitchen, already having made himself at home with a beer at the bar. Hancock raised a bare brow at him and took the other stool, grabbing a drink for himself.

“So, what brings you?”

“What do you know about Libertalia?” the spy asked, his characteristic sunglasses catching the sunlight streaming through a window.

“It’s that raider camp over in Nahant, built out of some old cargo ship,” Hancock replied. “They keep mostly to harassing that area, I hear, but there’s a lot of them, so they could become a problem at some point.”

“Yeah…” Deacon seemed reluctant to get on with it, but Hancock was patient. He assumed this had something to do with Nora. Why else would he be here? “The leader of the raider gang is a synth, goes by the name of Gabriel. Not one of our finest moments.”

“You mean, he’s an escaped synth that you and your people mindwiped.”

“Successfully too. Hey, we can’t be held accountable for what people do once we set them free.”

“Yes you can,” Hancock snorted. “If you’d managed to program some common decency in there while you were tinkering, he would never have become a raider. So what does this Gabriel have to do with anything?”

“Libertalia was hit last night, all the raiders are dead and Gabriel is gone.”

“You think…”

“There was some Courser activity. PAM picked up on it and we sent someone out to take a look see. Nora was spotted. Now we don’t know for sure, but we’re thinking it was an Institute reclamation, that Gabriel has been taken back and that Nora was helping for whatever reason.”

“You said yourself she’s an agent. Makes sense to learn as much about your enemy as possible, even if it means playing both sides.”

“That’s the angle I’m trying to take. Dez too. I thought…I thought you’d want to know, that at least she made it and as of last night she was still alive.”

“Thanks, I appreciate it.” _Well_ , he thought, _she made it_. “Anything else?”

“How can you be so complacent, man?” Deacon sputtered.

“Deacon, you know Nora as well as I do. She’s a take charge kind of person. She’s tough, smart and wily. She’s survived a year in the ruins without any foreknowledge and she’s capable of handlin’ most anything the world can dish out. And I trust her. Implicitly.” He shrugged. “She’ll make it home. Now at least we know the Institute was not immediately hostile to her.”

“Unless she’s been replaced. That would be a real coup for the Institute, to replace the General of the Minutemen with a synth copy.”

“True enough. But don’t think like that. It’s unproductive.”

“Yeah, but there’s no way to know for sure.”

“What is your ultimate goal here, Deacon? What is it the Railroad really wants?”

“To free synths.”

“And then?”

“I don’t know. We’ve never been in a position to plot anything else. And after the Switchboard massacre, we don’t have the manpower or resources to think that far ahead. Why?”

“What would be the best outcome for everyone in the Commonwealth?”

“If the Institute didn’t exist. But that’s…it’s too big. Nora is the first person to go in of her own volition, and look at how hard it was to accomplish. Not to mention, she isn’t even back yet, so we don’t know what we’re dealing with.”

“Start thinkin’ about dealing with it,” Hancock said frankly. “This reign of terror has got to stop.”

“That’s easy for you to say, Mayor,” Deacon replied, a little frostily. “You play at the edges of this, it doesn’t really affect you on a day to day basis.”

“Bullshit. Once we knew those bastards had her son, getting’ in there and takin’ them down was all that mattered. You think I didn’t know what I was getting myself into? I walked into this with my eyes open, Deacon.”

“You’re talking about a full on war against a tyrannical boogeyman,” the Railroad spy said.

“Wouldn’t be the first time,” Hancock replied. “You hear anything else, let me know. And have a little faith in your agent.”

“We’ll try.”

“Do better than try. Otherwise, what the fuck was the point?”

He stalked away from the spy and went back to work, his hands working automatically on the pipes while his mind wandered. Destruction of the Institute. They could make it work, as long as Nora could keep up with being a double agent. It was a tough position for her, but he’d back her up, every step of the way.

***

Another day passed, without word from either Deacon or a noticeable shift in Institute activity. Hancock worked in the garden plot and volunteered to walk the perimeter that night. Most everyone took a turn in rotation, and it wasn’t like he was actually needed since all sides had coverage, but he had to keep busy.

It was in the wee hours, when the moon was high and the stars were so bright it was almost like daylight, that he saw a blue flash from the teleporter site. He took off at a run and arrived, breathless and ready for anything, to see Nora and another figure step down from the empty lot. They hadn’t used the platform that still stood there. It looked like maybe they’d relayed directly to that spot somehow. She was dressed all in black, like a Courser, and her face lit up for a moment when she saw him before closing like a shuttered lantern.

“I gotta be hallucinating,” he said, throwing his arms around her. “There’s no way the Institute just let you come back.”

“Well, they did,” she said crisply, her eyes warning him not to say too much. The figure with her emerged from the darkness and he saw it was a male Courser, black sunglasses hiding his eyes, his dark skin almost invisible in the darkness. “This is X6-88, my…Institute companion.”

There was an inflection in her voice he’d never heard, but he knew what it was cueing him into. X6-88 was a watchdog, and she was his target. They might have let her out, but her chain was short.

“This place is a prime example of everything that’s gone wrong in the Commonwealth,” the black Courser said in a flat voice. “The lack of decent amenities and technology expresses exactly why you need the Institute.”

“I made most of this community with my own two hands, X6,” Nora said dryly.

“Oh. Sorry ma’am. You’ve done wonders with the tools you had at hand, I’m sure.”

“Whatever. Go find somewhere to stalk, would you? I need time with my…I need some time.”

“Just remember, ma’am, Father is expecting your report in the morning.”

“I haven’t forgotten,” she said, and her voice was cold. “Go on, now. We’ll meet back here at dawn.” She watched the Courser wander off, idly looking at the neat rows of tatoes and razorgrain growing in the plot between the workshop and the stream. “Get me home, Hancock,” she whispered to him as soon as X6-88 was out of earshot. “I need sleep.”

Once they were in the house, he got a good look at her in the electric light of her kitchen. Her eyes were blazing, but she was clearly exhausted, with dark circles marring her delicate cheeks and her hair was limp and lackluster. She looked wan and was shaking with chem burnout. She placed the tin of Mentats she’d taken with her on the bar and he could tell by the sound of it that it was empty.

“How long has it been since you slept?” he asked carefully.

“Four days. I was so afraid they would try to replace me if I fell asleep, I…”

“You overloaded on chems to stay awake. It was good thinking, Sunshine. Deacon was worried about that possibility too.”

“You’ve seen him?”

“Yes.” He led her to the bedroom, where she immediately stripped off the Courser outfit, leaving her in a tank top and her underwear. She’d lost weight already, he saw, not that it took much of a difference for her to look so emaciated. Her ribs always stood out plainly through a snug top. Added to that her movements seemed brittle, and her color was just _off_. “He told me about Libertalia.”

“Ah, good. I hoped someone would see me. It was the best I could do.” She lay down and closed her eyes, pulling the covers right up to her chin. He thought for sure she had drifted off already when she moved her head and cracked her eyes open at him. “In the inside pocket of the coat, there’s the network scanner. Make sure Sturges gets it, all right?”

“Gotcha.” He kissed her once, lingering when she cupped his face.

“God, I’ve missed you. But I can’t stay. Too dangerous.”

“I gathered by your keeper.”

“Hancock…” She sounded upset. He didn’t know if it was just the exhaustion or something else. He could wait. She was run ragged and didn’t need interrogating.

“Get some sleep. You know I’ll keep you safe.”

“Wake me at dawn.”

“I will.”

“I love you. Never, ever doubt that…” she whispered as she drifted off.

He grabbed his shotgun from their traveling chest went to stand at the front door, watching everything that moved. The game had been taken to a whole new level, as Fahr would say. He’d damned if he was going to let the queen be threatened.

He tucked the holotape in his pocket and woke her as the sun started to pour in through the window. It hadn’t been enough sleep, less than six hours, but she woke somewhat refreshed and much less haggard. “Up and at’em.”

“Blargh. Thanks, love.”

“Any time. Sunshine, can you tell me anything?”

“Not now. Please. I need to work some things out. I’ll try to be back soon.” She was dressing again in the black leather trench coat, belting it around her waist and hanging her weapons from it. “I just don’t trust anyone there. I don’t know how long I can do this.”

“Nora…” She looked at him sharply, as if in warning not to say anything or her resolve would crumble. She kissed him hard and went out into the kitchen.

“We need to destroy that place, John,” she said quietly as she went through her case of weapons, looking for something specific. “We need to tear it all down. And I have a feeling the only way I can do it is from the inside. I have to gain their trust before I can be easy about going back and forth. Take the information on that holotape and get working on a strategy. Tell Preston and Sturges, tell Deacon and Dez. But keep it secret from everyone else. Sh…Father would turn on me in a second if he knew.”

“Who is Father?”

“He’s the Director, their leader.” He hadn’t missed the name she’d started to say and cut off.

“And he’s your son,” he said flatly.

“Yes,” she replied, just as flat. “Please, not now. I’ll explain everything when I have a chance, but not now.”

“No worries, Sunshine. I’ll get on this right away.” He drew her into his arms and held her tight, trying to impart some of his strength through sheer force of will. “You better get going before anyone sees you.”

“Right.” She took a deep breath and looked like she wanted to speak but had no words.

“Landmines on the floor,” he said suddenly. “Booby-trap your room so you can sleep.”

“I knew there was a reason I loved you so.” She actually cracked a grin and held up the mines she’d been digging for in her gun box. “Still…got any orange mentats?”

He rifled through his frockcoat and found some. “Here, Bufftats, too.”

“You’re wonderful, my love. I’ll never complain about your chem use again.”

“Just be careful, they pack a wallop.”

“I will.” She heaved a sigh and wrapped her arms around him again. “Listen, get rid of the birds.”

“The birds?”

“The crows that hang around in the trees. Get rid of them, but be careful about it. They’re always watching.”

“Gotcha.”

“Okay, I’m off. Wish me luck.”

“Good luck,” he whispered into her hair. And then she was gone.

***

“Preston, a moment?” Hancock said as he sidled casually into Garvey’s office in the workshop. He tried to keep his face pleasantly neutral to any onlookers, but Garvey was smart, and knew something was up. Hancock did not make a habit of dropping by for a chat. He closed to door and made sure the windows were shut too.

“You have news,” Garvey stated, not asking.

“I do. I had a late night visitor, who had a gift for you and Sturges.” He dropped the network scanner on the desk and waited as Garvey processed his words.

“Is she all right?” was the first thing that came out of the Minuteman.

“More or less. She’s unharmed, but exhausted. She’s afraid to sleep, she thinks they would try to replace her.”

“She’s probably right to be paranoid.”

“She took some landmines back with her so she can booby-trap her room. It’s better than nothing.” He didn’t mention the chems, since he knew Garvey was a stickler about them.

“Did she say anything else?”

“She’s working on gaining their trust so she can be free to come and go. She wants us to come up with a plan to destroy the Institute.”

“Damn, she doesn’t think small, does she?”

“Are you surprised? The destruction of the Institute would make all our problems go away.”

“I’ll get Sturges on decoding this.”

“I’ll need a copy,” Hancock said. “She wanted it to get to the Railroad too.”

“I don’t like it, but all right.”

“Hey, the Railroad’s got more experience with fightin’ the Institute than anyone else in the Commonwealth. It would be stupid to ignore any insight they might have.”

Garvey leaned back in his chair and regarded Hancock thoughtfully. “You work with them, don’t you?”

“Not especially. But Goodneighbor is a safe harbor, if you will. I’m aware of their activities, but I don’t help or hinder.”

Something in his tone must have given it away, because Garvey sat forward abruptly, as if putting the pieces together for the first time. “And Nora?”

“What do you think?”

“I think my General has secrets.” His eyes shot to Hancock’s, almost fearing confirmation.

“She does, and wants to keep it that way.” It was the best he was going to do about telling Garvey about Agent Bullseye. “Listen, you get on this at your end, and I’ll hand in a copy to the Railroad at mine. I need to get back to Goodneighbor anyway. We need to make things look as if everything’s normal. Nora implied pretty heavily that she’s under surveillance, which means we probably are too.” He paused, wondering how to phrase it without sounding like an idiot. “She said we needed to clear out the crows.”

“What?”

“She said they’re always watching. I think she might mean that the birds around here ain’t exactly natural. So…what will kill off birds?”

“Cats.” Garvey almost sounded like he wanted to laugh. “I guess we need to get some cats.”

“Right. The Abernathy’s might have some. Well, ain’t any stranger than any of the rest of this mess.”

“You’re right about that. How can we contact you?”

“Radio Freedom,” Hancock said, knowing exactly how Garvey was going to react. For a long time Goodneighbor had not been allied with the Minutemen. Certainly he wasn’t against them, but he’d never volunteered anyone for the civilian militia. He knew that had to change if this was going to work.

“Finally ready, huh?”

“This is bigger than both of us, Preston. I can’t promise we’ll be ready at a minute’s notice, but we’ll support you any way we can. If you need to get a message to me, use a code word so I know it’s about her. I’ll do the same if I need to get a message back.”

“What do you want to use?”

Hancock thought for a moment, then smiled. “Sunshine.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In game there is no way to tell your companion what you find in the Institute, which I think was a misstep in the writing. *Lifts up the canon fixing hammer*
> 
> It occurred to me that once Nora is in the Institute, it would be way easy for her sociopathic son to replace her, thus the no sleeping rule. She’s an intelligence build; she’d have worked that out. It worked out as a plot device too, I’m not ashamed to admit, since she was able to get that all important network scanner to Sturges with none the wiser. Oh, and the crows being Institute spies? Shout out to the YouTuber Oxhorn for his diligence in recording every bit of lore that he finds. Check out his video on the subject, it’s remarkably chilling from a role playing aspect.
> 
> Incidentally, this chapter also marks my writing (on here at any rate) crossing over the 200,000 word mark. Many thanks to all of you dear readers for keeping me going. I hope you keep with me and keep enjoying what I do. As always, comments and kudos are the lifeblood.


	16. Cloak and Dagger

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Hancock learns how hard it is to be a spy, and Nora has a dark tale to tell.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> “You ready?” he asked gently. It was time to know everything. Her eyes darkened a bit, a mix of anger, anguish, a little fear and a lot of determination. But she didn’t shy away. She knew she owed him a full explanation.
> 
> “Where do you want me to start?” she whispered.
> 
> “At the beginning.”

Goodneighbor was perfectly normal. It was so normal that for the briefest moment Hancock thought maybe the last half of the year had not even happened. But there was no escaping the truth, even if he wanted to. He could only hope his happiest moments were not just a memory. Fahrenheit met him at the door of the State House and, after glancing over his shoulder to find Nora, frowned with questions in her eyes.

“Not here,” he muttered.

“That bad?” Fahr asked low, whistling between her teeth. “I’ll drop by later and bring you up to speed,” she said louder, her face going hard and stony. He knew that look, he knew he was wearing it too.

He went in and nodded greetings to all the guards as he climbed up the spiral stairs. His rooms were musty and unused and too damned quiet.  He sat on the sofa for a moment, Jet in hand before he jumped up with agitation. He opened shutters to let in the light and went on a cleaning spree that would have made Nora fall over with uncontrollable giggles if she’d seen him. He tackled layers of dust and cobwebs with equal fervor as he did the pile of paperwork mounded on his desk.

True to her word, Fahrenheit stopped by sometime in the afternoon, a bottle of vodka in one hand, glasses in the other. “All right, John, lay it on me.”

“Nora made it to the Institute.”

“Fucking hell, tell me you’re joking.”

“I’m not.”

She slumped onto one of the sofas and plunked the vodka on the coffee table. “Well…?”

He sighed. He didn’t know how much to tell her. Nora had sworn him to secrecy about the network scanner, but hadn’t told him not to tell anything else. He figured she would be all right with him spilling to Fahr. He didn’t keep secrets from either of them. “Currently she’s playing both sides. I only got to see her for a bit, so we haven’t talked about what she found, but she’s carefully building up some trust so she can slip the leash they put on her. And she is diligently keeping herself safe from being replaced.”

“What sort of leash?” Fahr asked as she poured out for both of them. Hancock knocked his back and sat next to his second, dropping his tricorn on the table.

“A Courser watchdog. She’s under heavy surveillance on the outside too. I’d say it’s safe to assume we all are.”

“What do you mean?”

“You seen any crows around here lately?”

“Crows?” Fahr asked sourly, her face twisted into a sneer as if she thought he was crazy. “No.”

“Good. Apparently, the Institute has found a way to make the birds into spies.”

“Jesus Christ…” his second breathed. “That’s…ingenious.”

“Heh, that’s one word for it. Creepy is what I think I’d use.”

“It’s a good strategy. They can go just about anywhere, and are pretty much ignored by everyone.” She had on her chess face, thinking out the moves. “Nora’s right to be paranoid.”

“Yeah.” He poured himself another drink and knocked that one back too. It burned all the way down, but it burned less than the acid in his stomach at the thought of his precious Vaultsicle in the hands of the enemy.

“You said something about her being worried about being replaced?”

“She hasn’t been sleeping, in case they try to replace her with a copy. She did a good job too, made it four days with nothing more than sheer will and Mentats.”

“You’re a bad influence, John.”

“It’s probably saved her life.”

“Probably.” Fahrenheit caught up to him on drinks and poured another round. “Makes life here seem downright dull in comparison. I don’t have anything to report that matters.”

“That’s fine. Let’s keep it that way. We need to keep up the pretext that everything’s normal, raise no suspicions that we know we’re being watched. I’ll be looking for a coded message through Radio Freedom if Preston hears anything, so keep your radio on.”

“All right.”

He was glad to see she didn’t even question his motives in aligning with the Minutemen; she was a clever girl. _Must have gotten your brains_ , he could hear Nora’s teasing voice say in his head. He shook himself. Too many drinks.  Or not enough self care.

“I need some sleep,” he said suddenly. Fahr got up and stationed herself at his door, just like she used to. He squeezed her shoulder once in gratitude and closed himself into his room.

***

In the morning he went around to all his properties, collecting the rents. He chatted with Daisy and KLEO, buttered up Charlie who was upset that Nora wasn’t with him and said hello to Magnolia as she sat at the bar, eyeing him carefully. She was a perceptive wench and without him saying a word, she knew something was up.

“Keep a sharp eye open, Mags,” he said in warning, the only warning he could give. She nodded and went back to her purified water. Some things were never said about the past, but they were known just the same. The Institute had always breathed down the neck of Goodneighbor, and with good reason. He dared them to try and take any escapees out of his capable hands.

After leaving the Third Rail, he crossed over to the Memory Den, his last stop on his rounds of rent collecting. Irma greeted him warmly and passed on his caps but lifted a lazy brow when he asked to see Dr. Amari.

“Everything all right, Mayor? You’re not sick are you?”

“Nothing like that, Irma. Just some, uh, business that needs doin'.”

“Well, you know where to find her, sweetheart.”

He went down the steps into the basement where Dr. Amari kept shop and found her typing away at her computer madly. “Doc, I have something I need delivered.”

“What is it, Mayor?” He held up the copy of the network scanner that Sturges had made. “A holotape? Why do you need me?”

“It needs to get into the hands of your friends. Quietly, no fuss.”

“I see,” she said, inclining her head. She took the holotape and slipped it into a pocket of her lab coat. “Important, I take it?”

“Very. It…”

“Don’t tell me,” Amari snapped, then sighed. “I’m sorry. Runners don’t ever know details, Mayor Hancock. It prevents leaks. I will assume this is eyes only and act accordingly.”

“All right. I’m grateful, Dr. Amari.”

“There is a chill in the air today, Mayor. Can you tell me about that?”

“The wind is changing,” he replied, falling in line with her code. “A new element is in play.”

“She made it in?” Amari looked astonished. After all she’d seen Nora accomplish, she shouldn’t have been surprised at her tenacity, he thought.

“She did,” he confirmed.

“So this tape…yes, very important. No, nothing more. I have to make some house calls,” she said in a very different tone. “If you would see yourself out.”

“Thank you,” he said softly, and left her there to visit with Kent. He let Kent ramble for a while about the Silver Shroud, only half listening, before he retreated back to the State House, feeling stretched out like a bobby pin about to break. The whole covert spy routine was hell on the nerves. He had no idea how Nora had managed it for so long without him knowing a single thing. If he was a less trusting individual, he would wonder what else she was capable of hiding from him.

He took a hit of Jet and a shot of Med-X both just to get himself feeling normal and sat down at his desk to count his caps. It was just another day in Goodneighbor…right?

At some point he ended up sprawled out on his bed, his boots on the floor, his hat hanging off a chair, frockcoat tossed carelessly on the seat. He had no idea how many chems he’d taken, or how much he’d had to drink. He probably hadn't eaten either, or if he had he had no memory of it. Night had settled over his town and in the mid-autumn coolness it was quiet on the streets. Those still partying hard were inside the Rail; everyone else was tucked up in bed. He’d felt like he was waiting for something all day, but he couldn’t put his finger on it.

He was no stranger to tension, but it was different somehow this time. Maybe it was because of how much she mattered. So he drank, and he hit the chems, until he couldn’t see straight and he couldn’t think. He didn’t hear the State House door open, or even hear the squeak of the spiral stairs as someone climbed them. He didn’t hear a bottle being shaken, a can of water being opened. But he did feel the small hand that slid across his chest to stop over his heartbeat, and he did hear the puff of air as Nora sighed against him, her slight body conforming to his shape on the bed. He opened his eyes and looked at her face, at her grassy green eyes, so tired and worn. Her dusting of freckles, her tousled red hair. He stroked that hair away from her face and smiled.

“Well, look at you. I must still be dreamin’,” he murmured.

“I hope it was a good one,” she murmured back. She seemed frail and so, so tiny tucked under his arm. But so real, so alive.

“It is now.”

He pulled her close and met her lips. She tasted clean and sweet, like she always did. There was a tang of something antiseptic about her, some bit of the Institute that had clung to her, but he forgot it as her tongue traced his lower lip and her hands roved across his chest, dipping into every fold and hollow.

“I missed you,” she said against his mouth. “I missed you so much.”

“You’re here now.”

“Yes. And I’m not leaving until I get what I came for.”

“Oh, yeah? What’s that?” _This was more like his girl_ , he thought. She leaned on her elbow above him, tracing patterns in his shirt, slowly slipping the buttons free, one by one. When she had it all open, she pushed the sides apart, baring his torso to her gaze and fingers. Her touch ignited him and he could barely stand to keep still and let her do what she wanted.

“You,” she purred, right before her mouth touched his skin. He groaned, pulling her on top of him, the black leather Courser’s coat squeaking in protest. She worked her way up his body to his throat, nipping and kissing him. She sat up finally and began working the closure of the coat open, shoving it off her arms and throwing it across the room as if she hated it. She immediately prickled with goosebumps from the coolness in the room and he rubbed her arms with his warm hands.

“You’re cold, Sunshine. Let me warm you up.”

“I hoped you’d say that.” He flipped her over onto her back deftly, settling between her parted legs. She held him close, needing to feel his weight on her, almost as if she needed to feel that he was as real as she was to him. He understood it, and braced himself on his elbows, framing her face with his hands. She arched into him and sighed.

“I love you, Sunshine,” he said. “No matter what.”

“To hell and back,” she whispered, her eyes closed.

“No hell tonight. Tonight there is only me and you.”

“I like that idea.”

He sat back on his knees and contemplated her. She gazed up at him with half a smile, her head cocked to the side. His let his hands roam down her body, from collarbones to breasts, ribs to hips. She bit her lip in anticipation and he grinned. He popped the snap of her pants and moved off her to pull them down, guiding her feet out of them and tossing them over the side of the bed. He quickly discarded his own and slid naked back up her body. She shivered as his heat hit her chilled body. He tucked one hand under her shoulder blades and lifted her enough to pull down the covers, then as she undulated her hips to give him access, he pulled them far enough down that they could be tucked up under them like silt beans in a pod.

“You’re so warm,” she said, snuggling into him, burrowing her hands under the covers to clasp his back. “I had almost forgotten.”

“I’ll always keep you warm,” he said, trailing kisses down her neck to the strap of her tank top, tugging it down her shoulder with his teeth. It didn’t want to give and she giggled, wriggling her arms free so she could pull it up over her head. He feasted his eyes on all her exposed skin, rubbing his thumbs across her hard nipples and making her squirm. “You are so beautiful, Sunshine.”

“I’m a wreck and a half,” she retorted, with something approaching her normal acerbity. “I’m surprised you haven’t told me how skinny I am.”

“I was distracted,” he said, lowering his face into the valley between her breasts. Her heart was racing, he could feel it on his cheek. He shifted a little bit and covered a breast, drawing her up into his mouth, her back arching to meet him. He released it with a pop and focused on the other one, and she gasped, clawing at him. When he was done with that one, he leaned back a little, looking into her face. She was flushed and pliant and her eyes had darkened to the shade he liked best – lustful.

“John…”

“Hmm?”

“Playtime’s over. I need you to fuck me…hard.”

“Never let it be said that I denied a lady’s wishes,” he said, slipping his hands down her hips to pull off her underwear. She got tangled up in them in her haste and he laughed, freeing her legs, running his fingers up her skin from ankle to thigh. She shivered again, but this time it was not from cold. He tucked his arm under a knee, keeping her spread wide for him, and entered her in one long thrust.

She threw her head back, eyes closed, mouth open on an airless scream, clenched around his cock so tight it was nearly painful. He drew back and pounded into her, making her breasts jiggle and the bed complain. She tried to laugh, but it was cut short by a gasp as he did it again. Deep and hard and long he pounded into her, driving her ever higher, ever closer. He hitched his hips higher into hers, pulling her leg around him while holding the other one flat. He thumbed her clit and she jumped and moaned. He never stopped moving inside her, going as deep as he could, bottoming out against her womb.

He kept rubbing her most sensitive spot until she came apart for him, crying out again and again as the waves washed over her from head to toe. He placed his hands on the headboard of the bed and rammed her repeatedly, changing his angle so he was completely sheathed inside her. Her body had more give now that she’d come and he could get deeper than ever. She clutched his ass, her nails digging into his skin, the tiny pinpricks of pain making him crazy for her. He exploded into her, filling her so much it ran out onto their legs. He cried out hoarsely, contorted by the intensity of his pleasure until he had nothing left to give.

Afterwards she lay cradled in his arms, his body spooned around her. He placed a trail of kisses along her soft shoulder and she wiggled her butt against him, making his cock twitch with renewed interest.

“I’m glad to be home,” she sighed.

“I’m glad you are too.”

“Stay with me,” she pleaded. She sounded so tired, and he knew she was about to drift off to sleep. He held her tight, promising with his body.

“Always.”

***

“I’m gonna be real mad if this turns out to be a Jet flashback,” Hancock muttered when he opened his eyes and found he was alone in the bed. It was raining, so it was hard to tell exactly what time it was, but it was bright enough to be early daylight. He was fairly certain it wasn’t late afternoon; he never slept that long.

He took stock of himself. Naked, check. Sexual afterglow, check. Hangover, check.

He groaned as he turned on his side and levered himself upright. The floor was cold under his feet. It was time to get the furnace working again to get some heat into the State House. October was fleeing fast before November’s arrival. The cold didn’t bother him, but the optimistic part of his brain that wanted Nora to be home knew it would bother her. The chill in the air made him think, what was the date? He had a suspicion he knew. Her birthday. She came home for her birthday. Right?

She had been there last night, hadn’t she?

He wandered into the bathroom, snagging his tin of Mentats from the bedside table, took care of some basic needs and wandered back to his room. There…on the floor. A black leather Courser coat lay crumpled in a heap. He lifted it by the collar and her scent hit him like a ton of bricks just as the Mentats kicked in. She was real, she had been in his room. Where was she now?

He heard the door of the State House open and shut in quick succession and then light feet pounding up the spiral stairs. “Hey, you’re up,” Nora said brightly. A wave of relief passed through him so fast he nearly fell over. “Nice outfit, Emperor,” she teased.

He’d forgotten he was naked, he was that happy to see her. He grinned, wide and toothy. “Consider it your birthday gift,” he purred, throwing his arms out.

“You do know how to treat a girl right,” she said, humming an appreciative sound in the back of her throat. Her pupils dilated and he grinned, letting her look her fill. “Let me eat first and then you can treat me some more.”

“Whatcha got?”

“Food. I’m starving for real food.” She hefted the packages in her hands and he saw a familiar blue topped cereal box as well as a newspaper wrapped bundle wafting the scent of roasted yao guai over him. She leaned in for a deep kiss and made a face at the taste of Mentats on his tongue.

“You? You’re never hungry. Are you sure you’re my Vaultsicle?” He watched her put down her purchases and quickly strip off the layers she’d bundled up to go out in. She had on a padded coat over jeans and her usual flannel. She kept the flannel, but dropped the coat and jeans on the chair by the door. She grabbed the roast before hopping back into bed, pulling the covers up around her to keep warm.

“Didn’t anyone ever tell you Berry Mentats don’t count as a fruit?” she countered.

“Ha! You sound like Daisy.”

“Shut up and keep me company.” She unwrapped her roast and he had the presence of mind to hurry over to the office side and grab both a plate and some utensils for her. He slid in next to her, warming her cold feet with his legs. “The ‘nutritional supplements’ in the Institute make bloatfly sound appealing,” she continued, accepting the knife and fork from him and digging in, balancing the whole thing on the plate in her lap. He watched her eat in silence, marveling. She practically attacked the yao guai, scooping up chunks of tato and carrot and humming with delight. He raised a bare brow as he watched.

“Damn, Sunshine, I don’t think I’ve ever seen you enjoy something as much as me.”

“Shh. Don’t ruin this for me by making me horny.”

He chuckled. “Well, that puts me in my place.”

“The Sugar Bombs are for you,” she managed around a mouthful of food. Her eyes twinkled as she smiled at him, but he made no move to get her thoughtful gift, instead just enjoying her nearness.

“Hmm, I’d rather have you.”

“Maybe later,” she teased, flicking the end of his half nose with her pinky. She finished her food and wrapped up the leftover bits in the paper, leaning over the edge of the bed to put plate and silverware on the floor. She sighed and snuggled back into the pile of pillows, replete and full. Her skin was rosy from the cold, and maybe from his proximity. She turned on her side to face him, letting him trail his fingers along her cheekbone and jaw, around the shell of her ear and into her hairline. He kissed her softly, wanting to make love to her until she wept, but he also knew that no matter what day it was, there had to be other reasons she was there. Not even she could make the world stand still for her.

“You ready?” he asked gently. It was time to know everything. Her eyes darkened a bit, a mix of anger, anguish, a little fear and a lot of determination. But she didn’t shy away. She knew she owed him a full explanation.

“Where do you want me to start?” she whispered.

“At the beginning.”

“The relay worked, obviously. I sort of appeared in a room with all these arches like we’d built, only there were like, seven of them, filling all the space. I was able to download the network scanner immediately. There was no guard, no nothing, just a computer terminal that I assume runs the relay at that end. I can’t exactly place where in the Institute the relay is, somewhere near the top, I guess.”

“The top?”

“It’s huge there, Hancock. Like a whole city underground. The deeper you go, the newer it is. Older parts are near the surface. It’s like an anthill.” She paused and took a deep breath. “I started to wander around, but there wasn’t much to see. Just a corridor leading to an elevator. When…when I got near the elevator, there was…there was a voice, on a speaker. It was…Father.”

“You mean Shaun, right?”

“Yeah,” she sighed, turning on her back so she didn’t have to look at him. Her eyes lost focus as she remembered. “He told me about how he’d been expecting me, how he knew what I was looking for and he told me to take the elevator. He was controlling it, and it went all the way down to some sublevel that opened up onto another room with another elevator. Seriously, the layout is weird. It’s so easy to get lost down there.”

She sat up suddenly and looked around the room. “I need a smoke,” she said.

“Here.” He reached behind him to the bedside table, grabbing his pack, lighter and an ashtray and handing them over to her. He firmly kept a grip on himself as she lit up and took a deep drag. She was in no mood to deal with what her smoking did to him. Not at that moment, anyway.

“So I took the second elevator and it brought me right into his living quarters. There was a…a glass cubicle…with a child…He didn’t know me. He kept calling out for help and didn’t know me…” she stifled a sob and Hancock kept silent, holding her free hand in his until she got herself under control. She cleared her throat and smoked. After a minute she went on. “This old man came in and used a recall code and the kid just sort of shut down. He was a synth prototype. First of his kind.” She turned to him, tears standing in her lashes. “The old man is Father.”

“How…?”

“Kellogg lied, well, he stretched the truth. He had said that Shaun was older than I knew, but I never expected…He’s an old man, John. It’s been sixty years for him. And he’s lived all of them inside that place. It’s shaped him, taught him everything he knows. It’s twisted him.” She stubbed out the spent cigarette and reached for a new one. “My son is a monster,” she whispered.

“Oh Sunshine…”

“There’s more,” she said briskly, sniffling back her tears. “He told me of their plans, how they want to start up some fusion reactor that will provide limitless power to the Institute so they never have to leave the underground, while simultaneously taking over the Commonwealth with their Gen-3’s, replacing humans entirely. He calls it ‘mankind, redefined’.”

“Tell me about Libertalia.”

“I wanted to leave right then and there, but I knew I needed information. So I had to play along. Father asked me to go on a trip with one of his Coursers to track down a missing synth and bring him home. He called himself Gabriel and was the leader of the raider gang at Libertalia. The mission went fine. We killed the raiders, used the recall code and shut Gabriel down and X6 took him back home.” She exhaled heavily, filling the space around their heads with smoke. “Gabriel was mind wiped and reprogrammed back into being a dutiful little slave.”

“What’s a recall code?” Hancock asked when it seemed like she didn’t want to say anything more.

“Every synth has one. It’s…it’s like hypnosis. It’s a sequence that triggers a standby mode, making the synth unconscious. Each code is unique to its synth. You know that part we dug out of Kellogg’s brain? That component? All the Gen-3’s have one. It’s where their programming lies. Organic bodies, organic systems, artificial memories. It’s obscene what the Institute does to them. They’re slaves, in every sense. No free will, no freedom of movement or thought or life expectancy. If a synth goes rogue, they get wiped or terminated.” She barked out a dark laugh. “They don’t even get the decency of burial or anything. The parts are recycled. They’re property, not people. But they think they’re people and they’re so…so goddamned willing…to…to…” She couldn’t go on and buried her face in her hands.

He held her while she sobbed, anger burning in his gut for all she’d had to go through, all she still had to do. He understood now why she’d said they had to destroy that place utterly. When she’d let it all out and was quiet in his arms he dared to ask, “And your son?”

“He’s a stranger to me,” she admitted with sorrow. “There is no love there, no memory of me, of Nate. He was less than a year old when they took him, and he is wholly their creation. He can go down with his ship,” she snarled. “But all those innocents…the synths, the workers, even most of the scientists…I can’t just…kill them all.”

“We have to find a way to save them, then, if we can. While still ending the threat.”

“Yes.” She took a deep breath and looked into his eyes. “There are synths hidden at Bunker Hill, waiting for transport out of the Commonwealth to freedom. Father knows this and wants me to lead his Coursers to reclaim them. He made it very clear that this was a matter of trust, that if I back out, I’ll be labeled as a traitor and exiled or killed. If I do nothing, those synths will still be recaptured and wiped. If I stand up to him, I’ll lose any advantage we have by me being on the inside. The only reason he let me go for now was because I told him I had things I needed to take care of as General.”

Hancock was turning thoughts over and over in his head. “There’s another way,” he said finally.

“What’s that?”

“There’s a piece on the board we haven’t moved yet,” he said with a black chuckle. “God, Fahr would die laughing if she heard me say this. There’s a _knight_ on the board, who’d love to be in play.”

“The Brotherhood of Steel…” Nora breathed, getting his analogy. “But that could get real messy, real fast.”

“It could. They hate everything not human, and dirty ghoulfuckers to boot. You’d have to be extremely cautious about getting their help if you want to keep the collateral damage to a minimum.” Something he said made her frown in pain, but she cleared it before he could ask.

“We can do it. We have leverage. The holotape. We dole out what we’ve learned slowly to keep them cooperative.”

“So what’s the plan, Madam General?”

“I need to get back to Sanctuary, talk with Preston and Sturges. And then, I guess, I need to see Paladin Danse.”

“You know I’m with you, every step of the way.”

“I do,” she said, resting her head on his shoulder, her hand on his heart. “Always, right?”

“Damn right.” He pulled her tight to him and kissed the top of her head. “Hey, happy birthday. I’m sorry I don’t have a gift for you.”

“You’re my gift.” She lifted her head and gazed at him. “You’re always my gift.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The Battle for Bunker Hill is the tipping point in the game, and that’s where we’re headed. From there it’s all downhill for one faction or another. But on a personal level, it’s all downhill for Nora too. I’ve purposely stayed away from the BoS since Nora would vehemently disagree with everything they stand for, but she’s too smart not to use whatever tools come to hand.
> 
> Yes, Magnolia is a synth, an escaped one I would guess, based upon the lyrics in some of her songs. I’m making the assertion that she chose to remember it and not be mindwiped. There’s no evidence that this is true in the game, but it gives a slightly better reason for Hancock’s acceptance of synths as people in Goodneighbor, as long as they’re not under Institute control.
> 
> Shout out to the comic artist Roman Jones for the image of Hancock on a chem addled cleaning spree.
> 
> Shout out to LilBittyMonster for the fruit quip. Yay, I finally got to use it!


	17. Rooks and Pawns

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which the opening moves of the Great Game are made.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> “Elder Maxson does not care to set foot on the ground while it is choked by filth.” The Paladin’s eyes slid momentarily to Hancock. Hancock grinned, all teeth and promise. Danse looked away hastily.
> 
> “Oh no? Not even into the secure compound that is the headquarters of the Minutemen? If the Brotherhood of Steel truly wishes for peace in the Commonwealth, he will have to give a little something to earn it.”

“You were busy in my absence,” Nora said as she watched Hancock rattle off a message for Kent to signal the Minutemen with. The Silver Shroud host was the only one with a working ham radio, so it made sense that he be promoted to Goodneighbor’s message taker alongside his show.

He glanced over at her, his mayoral face on before he grinned. “Always plan for contingencies,” he said. “I needed a way to contact Preston without anyone guessing.”

“Aren’t you clever?”

“I am,” he agreed with a smile. “Haven’t I proved it often enough?” He snagged an arm around her waist and pulled her close, nibbling at the edge of her ear before she put on her tricorn. She shivered.

“Don’t tease. Save some for later. So we just need to deal with Cambridge then, I guess? That makes my life easier.”

“Yup.” The message had been simple. _“The sunshine is bright over the Castle. It’s a good day to make holiday plans.”_ Simple, and hopefully effective. They hoped Garvey would understand and bring whatever Sturges had been able to uncover from the network scanner with him.

Unless Nora tuned in to Radio Freedom on her Pip-Boy they wouldn’t get an answer until they reached the Castle, but she didn’t want to risk it if she could help it. She didn’t know if her wrist held computer could be hacked, but since the Institute had perfected teleportation she didn’t want to leave anything to chance, and she had a cover to maintain. Although they agreed that if it became necessary, she could use the excuse that as the General she needed to be kept in contact with her ‘troops’ by way of the radio broadcast. This was the honest truth after all.

The paranoia was spreading, he realized. He hadn’t felt like this since his early years in Goodneigbhor, always looking over his shoulder for one of Vic’s goons. Now the goons were synthetic crows and he couldn’t decide if that was ridiculous or terrifying.

The trip to the Cambridge Police Station, where the small recon team of Brotherhood of Steel was staying, was less simple however. They were beset every step of the way – raiders, Gunners, super mutants and a glowing radroach that pursued them for three streets before Hancock was able to finally kill it with his combat knife.

“Good old College Square,” Nora said when they finally arrived. The police station was located just around the corner, but there were about twenty ferals between them and it. “What a mess.”

“Lookin’ to become someone’s dinner?” Hancock grunted.

“Only yours, baby,” she replied smoothly. He laughed appreciatively but quietly, trying not to draw their attention. “I’ve got Molotovs and my 10mm. What do you have?”

“My combat knife and my shotgun. And Jet, of course.” He grinned, and the late afternoon sun glinted off his obsidian eyes. He felt bad for ferals, but that didn’t mean he didn’t enjoy a good fight with them. Nora took a deep breath, cast a Molotov cocktail expertly against the nuclear engine of a nearby bus and they waited for the resultant explosion.

It rocked the square, taking out quite a few of the ferals as they lounged and scrabbled in the dirt. He could feel the heat of the flames and the gentle wash of the radiation from where he was standing. Nora swallowed hard as it hit her, and he wondered if she’d forgotten what would happen…again. But no, she seemed to be counting in her head, counting down the seconds as the radiation dissipated into the air, and then she ran out from behind the sheltering wall of the building she crouched next to, her pistol going off in rapid quiet pops, picking off the ones who'd survived the blast.

 _She’s found a suppressor somewhere_ , he thought to himself. _Nice_.

He hit his Jet and ran into the fray himself. He ignored his shotgun in favor of rushing the creeping, shambling ferals, cutting them down with his combat knife like he was enjoying himself. And he was. He had too much pent up rage, frustration and, frankly, boredom to just sit back and enjoy Nora’s show with her pistol. In just a few minutes the square was cleared and they were heaving and gasping for air sagged against the blasted out windows of a diner.

“Well…that was fun,” she laughed.

“Sure was, Sunshine. We need to have dates like this more often.”

“C’mon, let’s see if Paladin Danse is still here.”

He grumbled a bit that she could remember his name still, but followed in her wake just the same. Her long General’s coat ruined his view of her backside as she ambled her way through the scattered debris, but he had to admit she looked good in it. She carried herself differently when she wore it, confident and assured. The General of the Minutemen was a different woman than Nora the Vaultsicle. Just as the General was different than Nora the Institute Infiltrator. That woman was cold, tired and scared. He would be happy when this was all over and he didn’t need to see that woman anymore.

The Brotherhood of Steel had built barricades along the outer courtyard of the police station, complete with gantry walkways and blockades stolen from the Gunners. They were met with a suit of power armor that shoved a Gatling laser rifle in their faces, but Nora didn’t even flinch.

“I’m here to see Paladin Danse,” she said, as if she stared down the barrel of a highly lethal gun every day. “I’m General Howard of the Minutemen. I was under the impression I was welcome.”

“Yes, ma’am,” the power suit said, and Hancock could tell the voice was male, tinny and muffled by the helmet. The Gatling laser swung his way and he raised a nonexistent brow, ready to bristle. “The abomination isn’t.”

“The Mayor of Goodneighbor is with me,” Nora said. Her voice was low and there was menace in it he’d never heard her use in conversation. “If your Paladin wishes to know what information I have, you will let him pass unmolested.”

“Keep an eye on it,” the Brotherhood Knight said. “I don’t want to have to clean its guts off my boots.”

“You wouldn’t be instigating an incident, would you, Knight? Somehow I don’t believe that would be in keeping with the image the Brotherhood is Steel is trying to establish here,” Nora replied icily. The power suit backed down, but Hancock could hear the disgusted sound the Knight made as they walked past.

Once inside the station, Hancock took a quick look around – automatically scouting out good cover and escape routes, something that was nearly instinctual to him when dealing with a potential foe – and took in another power suited figure with his back to them, a perpetually scowling man in a faded orange jumpsuit and a young woman with her hair hidden under a cap with neck flaps, swathed in a heavily padded outfit that looked two sizes too big for her.

“Nora!” the young woman cried with happiness. “I so hoped we’d see you again.”

“Good to see you, Scribe,” Nora said and her earlier coldness disappeared. The two women actually hugged. Hancock was slightly agog. He didn’t realize she’d made such a friend in this place. He didn’t think she’d spent enough time here to make friends.

“Danse has been fretting that he didn’t make a good impression on you,” the Scribe continued. “He really wanted to recruit you.”

“I’m aware. Haylen, this is Mayor Hancock of Goodneighbor. Hancock, this is Field Scribe Haylen, the first and only Brotherhood member I’ve met who didn’t automatically want to murder everything.” She said it lightly, but there was an undercurrent running through her words. Haylen’s face fell, but it wasn’t due to him being a ghoul. It seemed more that she understood Nora’s reluctance to join and wasn’t too far from regretting it herself.

“I hope he doesn’t give you too hard of a time. Danse can be…well…he’s very dedicated to the Brotherhood,” the Scribe said to him, actually looking him in the eye. Not many did that. He was favorably impressed.

“I can take it,” he replied, easily. She smiled a little and it lit up her face. He thought she would be an adorable little thing, if not for the cloying Brotherhood miasma around her.

“Paladin Danse,” Nora said, stepping away and addressing the power suited back. The large figure turned, and Hancock saw he wasn’t wearing a helmet. The man was handsome in a wholesome way, with a narrow scar running down his cheek. He frowned when he saw Hancock, but erased it as he focused on Nora.

“Still wandering the wasteland, I see,” Danse growled out. His voice had a quality to it that was meant for giving speeches, Hancock thought. Or seducing women. He wondered how Nora had turned him down. This was the sort of man she should be with, even if he was a BoS piece of…

“As leader of the Minutemen, I wouldn’t exactly say I was ‘wandering’,” she said, a thin veneer of frost creeping back into her voice. “I have information regarding the Institute. I assume your Elder will be interested.”

“Indeed. If you’d like I could escort you to him myself.”

“That won’t be necessary, Paladin. I have other things I must attend to. But I’m here to offer an invitation to meet, face to face, at the Castle.”

“Elder Maxson does not care to set foot on the ground while it is choked by filth.” The Paladin’s eyes slid momentarily to Hancock. Hancock grinned, all teeth and promise. Danse looked away hastily.

“Oh no? Not even into the secure compound that is the headquarters of the Minutemen? If the Brotherhood of Steel truly wishes for peace in the Commonwealth, he will have to give a little something to earn it.”

“I will take that under advisement.”

“Do so. I know your Elder must be a busy man, but since I am also the leader of _my_ people, I’m sure you understand that I am also busy. I’m making this offer in good faith and I would appreciate the courtesy of some respect regarding it.”

“Noted.” Nora nodded decisively and turned to leave. “It’s good to see you are well and unharmed,” the Paladin said in a completely different tone. Hancock was fairly certain he hadn’t been meant to overhear it and he chuckled inside. Damn, his Sunshine just wrapped them all around her finger, didn’t she?

“Thank you, Danse. Now, we really need to get going. I have other places I need to be. I expect to be at the Castle in three days’ time. Will that be sufficient for you to speak with your Elder and make any necessary arrangements?”

“Yes.” The Paladin raised a fist and banged it against the torso of his power suit. “Ad Victoriam.”

“Right…well…good to see you, Danse.” She nodded to the man in the jumpsuit Hancock noticed she hadn’t introduced him to and to Haylen. “Rhys, Haylen.” The man she called Rhys sneered, but Haylen smiled – at both of them.

Hancock followed her back outside, where she walked with her spine held stiff and straight until they were out of sight of the Brotherhood sentries. She continued to walk until they were far enough away from College Square that there was little danger from any ferals they might have missed before she leaned against the brick wall of a shelled out building and regarded him from under the brim of her tricorn.

“Go on, I know you want to say it,” she muttered.

“Sunshine, I got nothin’.”

“You’re so full of shit.” But she grinned. She knew she was magnetic, and she was learning to use it. He was proud of her. He stepped forward to lean against the wall next to her, his face inches from hers.

“I’m full of somethin’,” he leered. “Was that your lawyer voice?”

She giggled and put a hand on his chest like she wanted to give him a shove, but got distracted when she touched his skin above the open collar of his shirt. He kissed her and she sighed into his mouth. “I love you,” she said when he pulled away. “And you can show me what you’re full of later.”

“You’re on.” He stepped back from the wall, taking a look at the angle of the sun. “Where we off to, General? We need to find some shelter before it gets dark. Wouldn’t want to be interrupted doing my best work.”

She consulted her Pip-Boy and said, “We’re not too far from Graygarden. Or we could cross the river and stop in at Hangman’s Alley, which is more in the direction we need to go. I want to stop in at Diamond City.”

He frowned. “Why?”

“I want Nick to join us for our ‘meeting’ with the Elder.”

“A ghoul and a synth at the Castle, all welcome and shit. Damn, Sunshine, you got a cruel streak I never knew about. Pity we don’t know any friendly super mutants.” She grinned widely, her eyes impish with devilish delight. He stroked a finger down her cheek.

“There’s some other things I want to take care of too while I’m in Diamond City,” she said idly, twirling the ends of her hair in her fingers, contemplating it.

“Fine, Hangman’s Alley it is. I’ll stay there while you wrangle up Nick and do your other stuff, if you don’t mind.”

“Not at all. You can talk business with Baker.”

“True enough.” Baker was the armor dealer he had a contract with for selling through KLEO. “You should ask Piper to come too. She can cover it for that newspaper of hers. This is pretty momentous, ya know.”

“What, the Brotherhood meeting peacefully with…anyone? Yeah, I suppose that would be pretty momentous, assuming it all goes well.”

“Let’s see how many sparks fly. I’ve been bored lately.” Nora pushed off the brick wall and took his hand in hers.

“I hope that was a joke,” she remarked dryly as she started heading towards the only remaining bridge across the Charles.

“Pfft, I didn’t mean by you,” he replied, swinging their linked arms in an arc like a kid. She laughed as he intended and they went on their way.

***

All was as expected in Hangman’s Alley. The crops were growing in well, although the young mutfruits wouldn’t be ready until next summer, but there were tatoes and carrots already being harvested. A caravan had come through with a side of Brahmin and other meat, so there was plenty of food to be had. Hancock and Nora had a pleasant time at the bar she’d built and they sat together at a picnic table someone else had made in the open air under the floor of the living area. The atmosphere was relaxed and comfortable, even in the midst of so much violence around the small community. But they had their walls and their turrets and once the sun went down, they closed and locked the only door, keeping the Commonwealth’s nightlife out.

They spent the night in the old raider shack, snuggled together on the mattress that was still there from their time before. It was different than the last time, when he still couldn’t wait to get his hands on her for the first time. If he’d known then what he knew now, he wouldn’t have been able to stop himself. He made a game of stretching out her pleasure that night, seeing how far he could push her before she gave in and made a noise, surrounded on all sides by her settlers. She had a gleam in her eye that told him was he likely to pay for it later. His gut coiled in anticipation.

In the morning she set off for Diamond City, taking one of the settlers who wore a dusty Minuteman jacket and wide brimmed hat with her for security while he stood on the highest level, watching them until they disappeared out of sight. He spent most of the day at the bar, talking with Baker, drinking himself stupid and wishing he could storm into his brother’s office and berate him for his political idiocy. He was brash, but he wasn’t suicidal. So he stayed put.

It was late when Nora returned, Nick and Piper in tow. The Minuteman escort went back to his post as the trio entered the settlement and there were greetings all around.

“Blue, this is great. Why didn’t you tell me you had a place so close?”

“I’m not here often enough for it to make a difference, Piper,” Nora replied sardonically. “Life on the road you know.”

“Uh huh,” the curvy reporter said before her eyes fell on Hancock. “Well, if it isn’t my second least favorite mayor.”

“Nice to see you too, Piper.” She made a face, but it dissolved into a good-natured smirk.

“How’s the Mayoral life treating you, Hancock?”

“Not bad. Not lately anyway.” He knew Piper was watching him gaze at Nora as she caught up with her traders and her eyes narrowed. “Got something to say?”

“No.”

“Not very convincing,” he chided.

“Hey, what you two do is your business.”

He faced the reporter again and turned abruptly serious. “Yes, it is.”

“Just…just don’t break her heart, all right?”

“I ain’t plannin’ to, Piper.” He eased his tone, sensing some genuine affection there. Did she inveigle the women of the Commonwealth, too? Was there anyone his Vaultsicle couldn’t charm to death? He turned to Valentine. “So what took you guys so long to get back?”

“Ask your dame,” Nick said, holding in a chuckle. He took Hancock’s hand and shook it firmly. “Good to see you, John.”

“And you, Nick. How’s the agency?”

“It’s doing well. Had to give Ellie a raise, though. I swear she finds more work than a mole rat digs holes in the ground.”

“Is it true what Nora told me about Acadia? And a brother?” Nick’s eyes flashed in the darkness. It was hard to tell what he was thinking, but he seemed almost…diffident.

“Yeah, it’s true.” The synth detective fished a cigarette pack from his pocket and shook one out, offering the pack to the others. Piper took one, but Hancock didn’t. He had his own.

“Damn,” he said. He got the feeling Nick didn’t want to talk too much about it in mixed company. “Are congratulations in order?”

“Something like that, I suppose.”

Nora came over to them then, and he noticed something was different about her but couldn’t immediately place it. Then he realized it was her hair. He couldn’t see it trailing down her back from her under her tricorn. In the soft light of the lanterns set all over the place he tugged the hat off her head and saw what she’d done.

“You like it?” she asked, tilting her head so the newly shorn edges swung. She’d cut it all off so that it hung around her face and jaw in wisps. And on top of that, it was a brilliant, vibrant magenta.

“I think so,” he said carefully. It was shocking. But with her elfin frame and green eyes, it was perfect. “Yes, I like it. I’ll miss pulling it,” he purred, leaning closer to her ear. She flushed enough in the lamplight that he could see it clearly.

“No, you’ll miss wrapping it around your wrist.” She patted the back of her head and gave him a frank look. “There’s still enough to pull.”

“Hey, get a room, you lovebirds,” Nick interjected but without heat. His yellow eyes lingered between them for a moment before he took Piper’s arm and ambled off with her. Nora grinned wryly at the synth’s retreating back.

“So, what brought this on?” Hancock asked, fingering the blunt edges. They were prickly against his fingers, but the rest was soft and curling around her face now that her hat wasn’t holding it down. He could smell the wash she’d used to clean it after having it dyed. He wondered how in hell the Super Salon had found hair dye. He wondered who was running the Super Salon these days. The things one missed when one was banished from their home.

“I needed a change,” Nora said softly. He understood. She’d come out of the Vault as she’d gone in, as if no time had passed, and after a year of living in the Commonwealth, it was time to claim herself. It was like she had made herself into another new person with this change. But he liked it.

“Let’s go see how much of it I can pull,” he whispered and led her giggling into the raider shack.

***

The Castle loomed in the distance as the small group made their way down through South Boston. They passed by the SB Police Station, cleared out a nest of super mutants at the Gwinett Brewery and went past an old bombed out diner that Nora told him had been the testing grounds for the artillery cannon up at the fort. They were greeted by Ronnie Shaw, Nora’s chief weapons and ammo dealer, as well as her advisor and third in command. Ronnie’s province was the Castle, and while she was tough as nails and brusque to the point of rudeness, it was also very apparent that she respected Nora and the authority Nora carried as the General. Hancock remembered Nora’s parting words to Garvey the day she’d relayed into the Institute for the first time, to make Ronnie the new General if she didn’t return.

“All’s well, General. I’ve heard that Preston is on his way. What brings you?” she asked in her blunt way.

“A meeting with Elder Maxson of the Brotherhood of Steel,” Nora replied, her spine stiffening as she once more became _General_ and not _Vaultsicle_.

“What do you want with that bloated bag of brainless muscles?” She jerked a thumb over her shoulder in the direction of the Prydwen where it hung stationary over the Boston Airport, clearly within sight of the Castle.

“Play nice, Ronnie. We need the Brotherhood…as a distraction.”

“Well, you’re the boss, General.”

“I am, so when they get here, we’ll set up in the conference room.”

“Very good.” Ronnie stalked off without greeting the others and Nora shook her head bemusedly.

“She’s not very friendly, is she, Blue?” Piper sound abnormally subdued.

“It’s just her way. The fall of the Minutemen hit her hard and she had nearly given up hope.”

“And then it was renewed,” Nick said into the silence, giving voice to what they were all thinking. Nora tried to shrug it off, but he could tell she was pleased that all her friends had such faith in her. She rarely talked about the past, at least with him, and he wondered what kind of life she’d led before the war that led her to such self-deprecation. It wasn’t like his – self-loathing and -harm – but it seemed that she hadn’t gotten much support from those around her in her previous life. Nora took a deep breath and let it out slowly, centering herself.

“It was,” she agreed at last. “C’mon gang, let’s get ready for this showdown.”

The Castle’s five points were manned with artillery and guard stations, and Minutemen bustled everywhere they went. Inside the walls were beds and relaxation areas. In the huge central courtyard vegetable gardens flourished around the tower of Radio Freedom, the blue flag of the Minutemen flying high and proudly. There was a constant hum from generators and the hubbub of settlers trading and living. Hancock had heard about the settlement she’d built here, but he’d never seen it. He left her to confer with Nick and Piper and wandered.

There were steps cut up one side of the fort and he climbed them to look down into the bowl of the Castle, surveying neat rows of corn, razorgrain and tatoes. Mutfruit trees grew in a line rimming the far end and between them were tables and chairs and a picnic area surrounding a market crammed full of stalls selling everything from junk to armor to weapons to chems. There were two bars.

He walked the perimeter of the Castle and down the rubble filled hole where a mirelurk queen had smashed through the heavy walls so long ago. At ground level it looked like a quaint village square, but within it was all business. Rows of cots lined the interior corridors – an efficient use of the space, he thought – but he noticed the west bastion was set aside exclusively as Nora’s personal quarters. Here there were weapons and armor benches, as well as cabinets and even a small cookstove, which doubled as a heating unit. In a curtained off area there was a porcelain tub with a water pump and toilet.

And there, sandwiched between all the accouterments of her rank, was a huge bed with a thick red cover on it that looked as if she’d never slept in it. The sheets were crisp, the pillows flat and the mattress firm. _Well, guess we’ll have to change that_ , he thought to himself with a small smile. He heard footsteps and hastily rearranged his face into something less lascivious.

“Hancock? Oh, there you are.” Nora swept into the room, her bright reddish pink hair swinging around her ears with every step.

“Miss me? Of course you did,” he drawled, pulling her close to him.

“Stop that now, Preston’s arrived and he said he saw a vertibird leaving the Prydwen. I think our company is on its way.”

“Damn, and I had plans for you.”

“You never stop, do you?”

“Hmm, nope.” He nuzzled her neck, blowing the tickling strands from his face. _That will take getting used to_ , he thought.

“Come on, now, put your Mayor face on.”

“All right, Sunshine. I’ll play nice…for the moment.” He swatted her behind and let her lead him to the conference room at the other end of the compound.

Nora seated herself at the center of a long table, a redacted copy of the network scanner in front of her. This was their leverage piece. Preston stood at her right shoulder, and Hancock took up a position at her left. The two men had nodded greetings to each other when they came in the room. Piper stood off to the side, notepad in hand, ready to document the meeting unobtrusively. Nick sat at one end of the table, his fedora slouched over his face, his rumpled suit and tie looking out of place among such colorful folk. Nora’s Mr. Handy unit, Codsworth, hovered in the other corner. He looked stalwart, if one can read the expressions on a Mr. Handy robot.

They waited. They heard the rumble of the vertibird as it landed outside the walls and a minute later it shut off to wait for the Elder to return. Nora laced her fingers together and if he didn’t know her better, Hancock would have said she was nervous. But he saw her face was set in hard lines and her eyes betrayed no sign of nerves when she glanced up at him.

“Lawyer voice?” she asked him lightly.

“Heh, you do what you gotta, Sunshine,” he replied.

The conference room doors were opened by Ronnie, who was swallowed in the mass of power armor that entered the room ahead of the Elder. There were three of them, one of whom was Paladin Danse, Hancock noticed. The Elder himself came in between the pair in the front, a compact man with a thick beard and robust build. He wore a heavy leather coat with a truly magnificent fur collar running around the edges of it. He was much younger than Hancock was expecting. He stopped in front of the table and stood with his feet braced solidly as if he was no longer used to ground that didn’t move under him. His eyes were dark and inscrutable and while he glanced over the room, noting Hancock and Nick with distaste, he made no comment.

“Welcome for Fort Independence, Elder Maxson,” Nora said, gesturing to a chair across from her at the table. “Won’t you please sit?”

 _Let the game begin_.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, yeah, a little canon divergence here. Nora truly detests the BoS, and really doesn’t want anything to do with them. For her nothing but meeting them in the seat of her own power will do.
> 
> And introducing my second favorite cinnamon roll – after Curie, who probably won't be in this first part of the story –Scribe Haylen. I was so devastated in my first playthrough (RR character) when she was killed. Damn you, Deacon! (I know it was him, he was using an Institute pistol and she was a glob of blue goo. Better than having to see her dead body, I guess.) I love Haylen to death, and wish you could save her from the Brotherhood she so obviously regrets joining. 
> 
> I tried to make the banter between Hancock and Nora lighter and have a more established feel in this chapter. What did you dear readers think?


	18. The Rock and Hard Place

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which the Brotherhood learns to bend, and the words of a friend can change one’s perspective.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> “If you’re both finished being mysterious, can we talk about what just happened?” Piper burst out.
> 
> “Easy Piper,” Nick said, returning to his typical slick noir stance. 
> 
> “Sorry, Nicky, but honestly…what the hell did I just watch?”
> 
> “You watched our General standing up to the Brotherhood of Steel,” Garvey said, his voice awed and proud. 
> 
> “She sure did. What a dame,” Nick commented, saluting her with his empty glass. The rest of them clinked theirs together with it.

Elder Maxson sat, his frown deepening as he glanced over Nora’s shoulder and saw the ring on Hancock’s finger, matching the one on hers. Hancock just smiled slyly. The Elder’s distaste was palpable, and Hancock knew it wasn’t missed by his Vaultsicle, either.

“Elder Maxson, if we could begin?” she said tartly, drawing the Brotherhood leader’s attention back to her.

“Of course. May I congratulate you, Miss…”

“ _General_ Howard,” Nora said lightly, but tensely. Hancock saw her turn to Danse, who was also frowning. He wanted to laugh at the Paladin’s poorly concealed expression. He wasn’t sure if it was aimed at his Elder’s lack of respect for her title, or for the obvious connection between them which offended his Brotherhood sensibilities.

 _I staked my claim long before she met you, tin can_ , he thought to himself.

“Uh, yes…General. I’d like to congratulate you on your successes in pacifying the Commonwealth. Surely that has been a difficult task.”

“Not at all, Elder. The many settlements I have established provide secure homes and the promise of independence for everyone. It has been a rewarding experience.”

“Hmm,” the young Elder said. “I understand from Paladin Danse that you have information on the Institute. Can I ask how you have obtained it?”

“I have been inside it,” she replied, with a coolness only he could comprehend. As far as he knew she hadn’t told anyone else what she’d learned there. No one else knew of her personal heartbreak.

“And how was that accomplished?”

“The Institute uses something they call a molecular relay to teleport in and out. That is why no surface entrance has ever been found. There isn’t one.”

“And you were able to replicate this technology? On your own?” Maxson sounded disbelieving. Nora tilted her head to the side, a tactic Hancock knew often led to her opponent underestimating her as nothing more than a pretty face. He hid his grin and waited for the fireworks.

“Are you implying that we here in the Commonwealth have no understanding of technology, Elder Maxson?”

“Not at all, merely…”

“You think you are the only ones who possess such things? Or have a right to?”

Maxson sighed. “I meant no offense, General. In our travels from the Capital Wasteland we have seen a lot of ruin and a lot of disrepair. Most places are not harnessing knowledge from the past, for any purpose, good or not. It is part of our mission here to collect as much data as we can about the level of technological use or abuse that remains.”

Nora leaned back in her chair, her shoulder brushing against him as he stood at her side. He subtly leaned into her, a movement that did not go unnoticed by their ‘guests’. “You mean you are here to harvest it.” She held up a hand, forestalling anything Maxson was about to say. “I didn’t invite you here so we could bandy about. You want information about the Institute and I want assistance in destroying it. I am offering you a chance to share in what we’ve learned, on the understanding that in this case, you work for me. Not the other way around.”

“We came here to cleanse this place of all that is foul and unnatural,” Maxson began, his gaze lingering on Hancock before moving to Nick. Nick met his eyes steadily, not saying a word. Nick’s silences could be unnerving to the most courageous person, and it wasn’t long before Maxson looked away. First.

“I don’t recall anyone in the Commonwealth asking for your help, Elder. That being said, if you care to combine efforts in order to destroy the Institute, I think we can oblige you.”

The man looked like he wanted to argue. Hell, he looked like would have enjoyed arguing over the color of the sky, but he didn’t. With a sigh, he waved a hand at her, as if he was being magnanimous. “I’m sure we can come to an agreement.”

Nora inclined her head, her magenta hair sweeping forward to brush her cheeks. On another person it would have been too odd a combination – pink hair and formal antique coat and hat – but Nora pulled it off. “What can you offer?”

“What can you?” Maxson countered.

“There is this,” she said, holding up the holotape. “We have garnered some of that data you are interested in. It’s yours in good faith.” It disappeared into the voluminous coat. “Also, we know that a small number of synths are being held in Bunker Hill. The Institute is planning to send a reclamation team to retrieve them. I would like your assistance in preventing that.”

“And the synths?”

“They are not your concern.”

“Their very existence is an abomination, General. Flesh and machine should never intertwine. They should all be wiped out.”

Nora turned to look at Nick, who placidly returned her gaze with his trademark half smirk. When she faced Maxson again she was chuckling. “Those are perhaps not wise words in this company, Elder. You may not see synths as being human, but I assure you, they are people worth saving from their current slavery.”

“I assume you feel the same way that these…” he gestured violently at Hancock, “filthy creatures are worth sparing too?”

“This _man_ is the Mayor of Goodneighbor, Elder Maxson, as well as my chosen partner. Be very careful how you speak of him, unless you are tired of your welcome already? Provoking the aggression of the second largest economic community in the Commonwealth could prove…dangerous for you. Not to mention tedious for the rest of us.”

Tension filled the room at her thinly veiled threat, although none of it was from their side of the table. Within her words was laced the fact that she could have their precious airship blasted out of the sky with her artillery in moments, if she chose to. Maxson, Danse and the two other power suited Brotherhood soldiers all wore expressions ranging from disgust to anger, and it would have humorous if it wasn’t quite so ominous.

Nora sighed and unlaced her fingers, making a pacifying gesture. “I understand the Brotherhood of Steel has certain…preconceived notions about what constitutes humanity, and I am not asking you to forsake them. However, if we are to work together, it must be that. _Together_. If you cannot do that, then we have nothing to say to one another.”

Maxson seemed to be reconsidering his position. Hancock could tell he was used to being in total control, and it was taking effort for him to realize that in this place this rather unassuming woman held all the cards. It had to be difficult for a man with an ego that large. Hancock was almost sympathetic…almost.

“If we agree to help you, General, then I would like some help _from_ you too,” Maxson said eventually. “We have been attempting to repair and assemble our greatest asset…aside from the Prydwen itself. Liberty Prime. Have you heard of it?”

“I have, in fact. Built in 2072 as a weapon of war against China. It was never deployed to Alaska as planned, however, and was still inactive when the bombs dropped. You may not have heard, Elder, but I was cryogenically frozen in a Vault. I was alive during that time. My late husband was a veteran of the Battle of Anchorage.”

“Yes, Paladin Danse told me some of your…history. My belated condolences on your loss.” Hancock was actually impressed; Maxson said the words with sincerity. “The Brotherhood of Steel acquired Liberty Prime during our time in the Capital Wasteland, and it was instrumental in our defeat of the Enclave there. It ultimately suffered a destructive amount of damage and we have been trying to repair it ever since. There are components that we need to complete the job, as well as the services of Dr. Madison Li, who I believe is now residing within the Institute. If you can convince her to return to us, we will offer whatever assistance we can regarding this Bunker Hill.”

“I have met Dr. Li, Elder. I don’t think she will be easy to convince. She gave me the impression that you did not see eye to eye on many things.”

“Perhaps not. But that is the price of my help.”

“So be it.” Nora stood and offered her hand across the table. Before he took it, he gestured to Danse.

“Paladin Danse is a trusted member of the Brotherhood, and has been on recon duty here in the Commonwealth for several years. I request that he remain here, with you, and oversee any plans. He may even be of assistance to you in terms of security and personal safety. He tells me that you have what it takes to be a valuable addition to the Brotherhood, although what I have seen and understood here today leads me to believe you may not be a good fit when it comes to our…vision. Nevertheless, he has volunteered for the posting, and I have agreed.”

“And what exactly do you think you’d be doing here, Danse?” Nora asked him directly.

“I could teach you better arms and armor care, and perhaps speak with any promising young people about joining our ranks.”

“Hmm. You’re free to try, I guess. I have no objection. That being said, if you infringe upon the rights of any free citizen, whether they are human, ghoul or synth, we will have a problem. Is that understood?”

“Clearly, General.”

Maxson took her hand and shook it firmly, then left with his clanking entourage, leaving Danse behind. Nora caught Hancock’s eye and gave a jerk of her head for him to follow her. He grinned at Danse's fierce scowl and took her hand in his as they left.

***

“Well, Sunshine, that went about as well as it could have.” He slipped off her Minuteman hat and ran his fingers through her hair, watching her eyes close with pleasure. They’d managed to get across the open square of the Castle without being interrupted and were now in her quarters. “I’m impressed.”

“It was the lawyer voice, wasn’t it?” she joked.

“Not all of it.” He kissed her gently. She was tensed up and agitated. And she had a lot to do. They didn’t exactly have the time to relax. “You think you can convince this Dr. Li to come out and play?”

“Hmm, I don’t know. I have to try, I guess.”

“When will you go?”

“The sooner the better. Father will want an update anyway.” She paced around the room, her movements jerky and stiff. “I don't like going there. I mean, it's clean and bright and filled with all sorts of tech that we've lost here on the surface, and it should be a wonderful place but...it's built on the backs of slaves. Slaves who for the most part don't even know that they are because they've never known any different.”

“Hey, I know it ain't much, but you know what you get to come home to,” he said, lounging against the wall. She stopped her pacing to place her hand on his heart.

“I don't know if you can appreciate how true that is,” she murmured. “I would rather come home to you with all the shit piled around us than be apart in a perfect world.” She rested her cheek against his chest and he folded her into his arms and just held her for a moment. He hated this. He hated that he couldn’t help her, couldn’t go with her. All he could do was be there when she came back to land. It was a daunting prospect, but he would take it on just the same.

“Go on, now, love. The sooner you go, the sooner you get back.”

“Right. I just need to change.” She suited actions to words, stripping off the General’s coat and pulling out the Courser one. The transformation was chilling. One moment she was his beautiful Vault girl, the next a cold, ruthless killer. Even her madcap hair couldn’t disguise it.

“Why do you wear that outfit?” he asked, just to keep her there longer.

“It helps me blend in, I guess. The first time I went, I stood out with my mismatched armor and obvious surface dwelling demeanor. There's so many eyes on you down there...”

“Hey, remember who you are, Sunshine. General Howard of the Commonwealth Minutemen, Agent Bullseye and my one and only love.”

“Thanks, John. I won't forget. All right, I'm ready.” She reattached her Pip-Boy, tuning it into the Institute frequency and with a final kiss and a small tight smile, she was gone in a bright blue flash.

***

Hancock went out and took up a spot at the bar, his usual waiting position. Beer in hand he watched the rest of the Castle going about its business as if nothing out of the ordinary had happened. A knot of people headed his way and he nodded a greeting to Nick, Piper and Garvey. They settled around him at the bar too, each with their own thoughts to keep them company.

“She’s already gone, isn’t she?” Nick asked after a time. He held a glass in hand, although it was empty. Funny how he could mimic just about every human behavior, even though he didn’t need to. Programming or habit?

“Yeah…” Hancock said.

“What did she find there, John?”

Hancock faced his oldest friend and didn’t speak. Nora hadn’t told him not to, but he felt it was her secret to tell, not his. Besides, what could he say? _She found the truth, but it was horrifying and heartbreaking and the decisions she has to make are harder still_. Still, Nick seemed to understand, and he nodded silently.

“What a tangled web we weave,” the old synth sighed.

“When first we practice to deceive,” Hancock finished.

“I always forget that you know the classics as well as any pre-war person. I know I shouldn’t since I taught many of them to you myself. Chin up, John. I believe she’ll do the right thing.”

“I do too.”

“If you’re both finished being mysterious, can we talk about what just happened?” Piper burst out.

“Easy Piper,” Nick said, returning to his typical slick noir stance.

“Sorry, Nicky, but honestly…what the hell did I just watch?”

“You watched our General standing up to the Brotherhood of Steel,” Garvey said, his voice awed and proud.

“She sure did. What a dame,” Nick commented, saluting her with his empty glass. The rest of them clinked theirs together with it.

“What are you going to do with the tin can?” Hancock asked Garvey with a twisted grin.

“Oh, I’m sure I’ll find some use for him. He’s not all that bad, really. Just…”

“Indoctrinated?” Piper offered.

“I was going to say, naïve. He’s lived his whole life with the Brotherhood. They’re pretty closeminded and isolated. He doesn’t know much about the real world, always chasing some ideal that hardly anyone agrees with.”

“Once upon a time I would have said that sounded like someone else we all know,” Hancock said, clapping Garvey on the shoulder. “Good to see you’ve taken steps to fix that, Preston.”

“Yeah, well…I couldn’t have done it without her.”

They all fell silent at that, retreating back to their drinks and their thoughts. Eventually Piper and Garvey wandered off. The reporter was planning to take in all the sights of the Castle, and Hancock was pretty sure that meant a new edition of Publick Occurrences would be available soon. Garvey had his duties to return to, which now included one very sullen and disgruntled Paladin. Hancock didn’t envy him.

“How are things in Diamond City?” he asked Nick, still sitting next to him, brooding into his glass.

“Are you just making conversation or do you really want to know?”

“Both, I guess.”

“John…” Nick sighed. “Morose doesn’t suit you. You can’t change the past. Your brother isn’t wholly a monster, and he’s done some good things in keeping his great, green jewel alive and well in the middle of a warzone.”

“Heh, doesn’t change a thing.”

“I know it doesn’t. Let me ask you something. As a friend who has known you your whole life, what it is between you and Nora?”

“I love her, you already know that.”

“And she loves you.” Nick said with surety, with no doubts. “I’ve known her since she broke me out of Skinny’s Vault. And I know what she’s been doing here. She calls you her rock, her foundation. She depends on you. Did you know that?”

“No.”

“That woman has seen things no person should ever have to see. She’s lived through things that no one should have to, and I would know. Well, at least, my memory tells me that I know. My point is, she’s made a new life here in the Commonwealth, and she would not have been nearly as successful at it without you. For better or worse, John, you are what she’s chosen to put her faith into. Let that mean something. Don’t worry about Diamond City, and the past. We all have things we aren’t proud of, and sure, I know you have more than most. But you’ve remade yourself, and done a damned fine job of it, if I may say so.”

“Thanks, Nick.”

“You’re welcome. Now, how about you and I go dig up some grub and watch that overblown tin can flail around like a fish out of water, eh?”

“Damn, Nick, you’re as cruel as she is,” Hancock said with a laugh.

“Don’t let on, I’ve got a reputation to uphold.”

***

Radio Freedom had just announced the time – 4 am – when a telltale brilliant flash in the corridor announced Nora’s return. Hancock got up from the chair where he’d been slumped over a half empty bottle of vodka and he stumbled out to see her coming in, her face worn and wary, her eyes downcast. She’d started unbuttoning the courser coat as soon as she arrived, and by the time she made it into her quarters it was hanging open to her waist, showing off the plain white tank top she wore beneath it. Watching her he realized he never saw her wear a bra, either because she couldn’t find one that fit or simply because she didn’t feel she needed it.

“You’re back,” he said, relief evident in his voice.

“Hey baby, what’s shakin’?” she replied, lighting up like a sunrise when she saw him. He felt a thrill in his stomach that had nothing to do with alcohol and he remembered Nick’s words about him being her foundation, the one she depended on.

“I’ll shake you up,” he purred. She launched herself at him, barely giving him time to line up their faces before she was kissing him.

“Blech, vodka.” She made a grossed out face. “Go rinse that shit out or something if you want me to kiss you.”

“I think it would be better to just get you into bed, Sunshine. You look exhausted.”

“I am.” She dropped the courser coat on the floor and sank to the edge of the bed. Hancock knelt at her feet to tug off her boots and helped her out of her pants. He ran his hands over her skin soothingly and pushed her flat onto the mattress before she could get too worked up.

“Get some sleep. I’ll be here.”

“Get in here with me, John.” She was mock stern, and so tired she could barely keep her eyes open. But he would never resist the opportunity to hold her, so he did as he was told, stripping down to his skin. She snuggled up to his warmth, resting her hand over his heartbeat and her head on his shoulder. She sighed with contentment.

“Were you successful?” he asked softly, stroking her hair back from her face.

“Yeah. Got Virgil’s serum too. And talked to Father. Oh, and I brought X6 back with me.”

“Busy day. Why the courser?”

“He's not a bad guy, you know. Just...brainwashed. I've gotten used to him. I think...I _know_ if I want to save them, I have to start somewhere.”

“Okay. As long as you know what you're doing.”

“Yeah…” Her breath evened out and he knew she was asleep. He cradled her in his arms, but didn’t sleep himself. Eventually she rolled away from him, and he grabbed a book from the shelf and sat beside her, reading. He’d only mentioned his love of reading once to her, but in every place they were likely to stay, he found books. Either she remembered or she liked to read just as much as he did. He wasn’t sure which idea was more heartwarming.

The hours crept by until it was morning and he heard the Castle waking up around them. The market stalls opened for business and the radio announcer switched out for the day crew. Hancock heard pounding on the outer door and huffed. Never a moment’s peace. He got up and went to the huge sliding door and opened it to see Piper.

“What?”

“All right, I'm assuming she's back because there's a seriously scary dude out there with Institute written all over him, but he isn't shooting the place up. Who is he?”

“His name is X6-88, and yes, he's an Institute courser. Just leave him be. Yes, she got back. And, no, you can’t talk to her now because she’s still asleep.” He crossed his arms and glared at Piper, who seemed to have only just realized that he was not wearing anything.

“Jesus, Hancock, put some clothes on. You’re totally naked.”

“You like it?” he drawled.

“Ew. Gross.”

“Hey, you came knockin’ on our door, Piper. You get what you get.”

“You have no shame, you know that?”

“In fact, I do. Go away. Nora will be out and about later. Much later. Spread the word,” he growled with a shooing gesture before sliding the bunker door closed in her face. He went back into the bedroom to see Nora sitting up in it, disheveled and glorious.

“Who was that?” she asked, stretching her arms over her head. She still looked tired, but she also looked delicious.

“Piper.” He slid back under the covers and pulled her down on top of him. “She can’t have you yet. You’re mine.”

“Hancock,” Nora protested, but she was laughing. He threaded his fingers into her hair and cupped her scalp, bringing her close enough to kiss. Her laughter died away. She adjusted her position so she was straddling his hips and he ran his hands down her back, cupping her butt and lifting her until she was spread out on his hardening cock.

“You were too tired last night,” he said when she pulled away, her breathing uneven and her eyes blazing. “But now I think it’s time we break in this bed.”

“Oh, Hancock, what am I going to do with you?”

“Whatever you damn well please,” he returned, tucking his hands under his head to watch her. She sat up on him, her hair curling around her head, her body slim and shapely and just about perfect. He didn’t know what he’d done to deserve such a woman, but he wasn’t going to complain.

She got an impish look on her face. Then she leaned forward to kiss him sweetly, before tilting his jaw with her hand so she could work down his throat. She muffled a chuckle against his skin when he groaned and went further down his body with her mouth, swirling her tongue in the grooves and furrows over his ribs. She scraped her nails along his hips, making him jump and yelp and she released her giggles to fill the room. “I’ve been waiting to pay you back for Hangman’s Alley,” she said between caresses and kisses on his skin. “You’re in for it now.”

“Do your worst, Sunshine,” he hissed through his teeth. He looked down at her and saw her grin, saw her hand sliding up his leg. She cupped his balls in her palm and squeezed, just as her mouth descended on the tip of his cock. “Shit! Wait…Rad…”

She released him with a pop. “Don’t worry about it. I’m clean…for now.”

“Nora…” he warned, but she wrapped her lips around him again and he couldn’t speak. His mind went entirely blank as she ran her lips and tongue over his length, her hand still cupped lovingly around his base and balls. She teased and tormented him, never quite getting him to the edge, never quite stopping altogether. It wasn’t long before he was a quivering wreck against the pillows and she was snickering. “Enjoying…yourself…?” he gasped out.

“I am, thank you.” Her mouth slipped over him again, and she tried to take as much as she could without gagging. He tried not to leap off the mattress.

“Fuck…Nora…you…I…”

“Stop trying to talk, John, it’s distracting,” she teased. “Just take it, would’ya?”

“Fuck me,” he breathed.

She hummed in her throat with her mouth wrapped around him and he felt his orgasm boiling up from the pit of his stomach. And she knew. She drew back, releasing him, letting it subside before she started again. He could only moan like an animal. He wanted it to never end, but he also wanted to get her on her back and pay her in her own coin. She lay with her head on his thigh and circled him with her hand, pulling on the crumpled skin of his penis with firm, hard strokes. His hips jerked and twitched and didn’t know how much more he could stand without charging up over her and fucking her until she was split in two. She did something with her thumb, just under the head of his cock and he whimpered. Genuinely whimpered. Then he felt the wet warmth of her tongue again and he came, spurting into her mouth and crying out hoarsely.

She rolled away from him and cleaned up her face with a discarded shirt before coming back to his side with a cheeky grin. He, on the other hand, had stayed right where he was, still trying to get his breath back. “Good?”

“Fuck, Sunshine…I think I’ve died.”

“Oh, I hope not.”

“Just…give me a minute.” She snuggled up to his side, one leg over his, her arm across his chest. She balanced her chin on him and looked into his face, her grin still plastered to her lips.

“Payback’s a bitch, huh?” With more energy that she was expecting he rolled over her, pinning her down.

“My turn,” he purred. His kissed her savagely, letting out all his worry for her, all his anger at being helpless while she dealt with things too big for her…and then it tempered, and he poured all his love for her into the kiss. She clung to him, just as desperate, just as if she hadn’t just blown his mind away with her skills. He roved her over her skin with hands and teeth and tongue, stopping in all his favorite spots, breasts, ribs, hips. He lapped at her heat, pushing two fingers inside her sheath, making her arch and moan. She was so wet and ready, but he didn’t let her drop over the edge. He pulled away instead and sat up on his knees.

“Flip over,” he said.

“What?”

“Ya heard me. Flip.”

She rolled onto her stomach, tucking her face to the side so she could see him from the corner of her eye. He sat on the backs of her thighs and started massaging her shoulders, long soothing strokes that carried down her spine and to her butt. He pushed and pulled at her tense muscles, kneading and worrying away at tight spots until she was boneless and mewling.

“I need to do this more often,” he muttered to her. “You don’t take good enough care of yourself.”

“I…wouldn’t say…no…” she gasped out between sharp pulls along her muscles. “It’s been ages…since anyone…has done this…”

“I’ll bet. Should have thought of it sooner.” He worked on her until she was silent, almost asleep. He smiled tenderly at her and brushed against her with a cock that had suddenly regained life. “Had enough?” he whispered.

“Got something else planned?” she retorted. He didn’t answer, just slid his length in the gap between her thighs, making her wiggle.

He bent over her so his breath tickled her ear. “Knock, knock, let me in.”

She spread her legs apart and he got between them, sliding easily into her from behind. She arched her back and lifted her hips off the mattress. He peppered her shoulders with kisses and little bites, making her jump and twist under him. He pumped in and out of her warm willing body, feeling her grow tight around him.

“J-John…” she stuttered.

“You almost there, love?”

“Please…”

“Tell me what you need.”

“Touch me…”

“With pleasure.”

Still resting most of his weight on his knees and braced on one hand, he snaked the other under their joined bodies until he found her clit. He rubbed the rough pad of his finger over her in time with his thrusts, slow and deep. He pressed hard on her and she cried out, bucking into him. He didn’t stop, not for a moment, until he felt the sudden new wetness that meant she was almost ready to come. Then he pounded into her, hitting new depths at new angles, his fingers relentlessly stroking her from the front.

When she came it was with a shuddering breath, almost too gasping for sound. She keened so high it broke into an airy moan. His favorite sound, he decided. She was still clenching around him as he sat back on his heels and held onto her hips, pushing himself harder and harder, deeper and deeper into her heat. She flexed back at him, meeting him stroke for stroke, almost wild with it. His climax crested over him like a wave and he emptied into her with a loud groan that echoed off the stone walls.

Afterwards, when she’d collapsed onto the mattress and he lay next to her, stroking her skin, he said, “Top that.”

“Maybe later.”

He chuckled and tucked his body against hers and drifted off to sleep with her for a little bit longer, the sounds of the Castle all around them but forgotten utterly.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hate the BoS, and Maxson especially. He’s a power hungry bigot who inspires me only to take him down a notch or two and steal his coat.
> 
> But hey, all the companions in one place is good, right? Poor Codsworth, I totally forgot to include him anywhere else. Whoops.


	19. Sacrifice

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which the tide of the battle for the Commonwealth begins to turn.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> “Why did you let me out, Shaun?” Nora asked, softly.
> 
> “Well, that's hard to explain. I suppose...I wanted to see what would happen.”
> 
> “Another experiment?”
> 
> “I guess you would see it that way.”

“Ma'am, I wish you would reconsider,” Hancock heard the flat voice of X6-88 say as he stood in the shadows having a quick smoke before they left the Castle for Bunker Hill. He was slightly surprised to hear a fair amount of pleading from the otherwise emotionally stoic Courser. “I am a valuable ally, you said so yourself.”

“Yes, you are, X, but there will be a lot happening and I don't want you to get caught in the crossfire.”

“You are taking the ghoul with you,” X6-88 said, almost in complaint. Again, the emotion was subtle, but there. Hancock found himself wondering if all the synths were like that inside the Institute. Forcibly repressed. It threw a shudder down his spine as he remembered what Nora said about her son being a monster. That she had to stop him. That all the synths were slaves.

 _She's planning something_ , he thought to himself. _She's planning something and wants to keep this one safe from it_.

“I am, because he and I have been in many combat situations and we work well together as a team. Surely you can understand that I prefer to have someone I trust completely at my side.”

“I am fully capable...”

“X6, my decision stands. I'd like you to remain here, please.” Nora sounded firm and resolved, but also strained, as if this conversation was not one she wanted to have.

“Yes, ma'am.”

“Thank you. You can compete with Danse to see who has the better poker face.”

“I'm sure I do, ma'am, although I doubt poker has anything to do with it.” There was a dry humor in the synth's voice that was unmistakable and Hancock nearly laughed aloud at it, then heard Nora actually do it. It erased the strain from her voice when she spoke again.

“I'm sure you do, X. Don't pester Nick, all right? He's my friend.”

“As you wish ma'am.”

“All right, I'll see you later...I hope.”

“Yes, ma'am.”

Hancock tossed away his cigarette butt in time to see her approach him in the shadows and gave her a quick kiss when she tipped her head up to him. “Ready, love?”

“As I'm ever gonna be,” she replied, taking his hand in hers.

“Then let's get this show on the road.”

They walked out of the immediate area around South Boston fairly quickly, bypassing Goodneighbor and staying in the shadows of the highway overpass heading north towards Bunker Hill. Suddenly Nora pulled down an alley that led to a well groomed square guarded by a Protectron and a Sentrybot. And a perfectly preserved pre-war house.

“I want to stop in real quick, see how Edward is doing.”

“Edward Deegan?”

“Yeah, you know him?”

“Well, I know he was looking for a new gun a while back. Hung around the Rail a lot.” She nodded absently as she marched right up to the door, digging through her pack for a ring of keys.

“Yup,” she said, unlocking the front door before he could ask how she had a key to this house.

“Wait, that was you involved in that mess up at the insane asylum?”

“Um, yeah...” she started, but stopped when she heard a door open above them.

“Nora,” the ghoul bodyguard turned caretaker said from the top of the stairs. “And Mayor Hancock. Welcome to Cabot House.”

“How are you doing, Edward?” Nora asked, reaching out a hand to grasp his in a firm shake.

“I'm recovered, thank you.”

“And the Cabots?”

“Jack is trying to dole out the serum sparingly, to make it last. They're putting their affairs in order for when it runs out.”

“I'm sorry ahead of time. Will it be long, do you think?”

Deegan shrugged. “Hard to know. But they've been alive a long time. Jack still wants to head out west, and Emogene is thinking of going with him. Wilhelmina seems...ready... and now, without Lorenzo...”

“Whoa, can we back it up here?” Hancock interjected.

“Sorry, love. I did some work for the Cabots, yes.” She glanced at Deegan, seemingly unsure of how much to tell. The ghoul shrugged again; it made no difference anymore it appeared. “The Cabots are older than me. Lorenzo, the one they were keeping at Parsons? He was...uh, infected, I guess, with an artifact. Jack was able to make a serum from his blood that's kept them all alive all this time. But now...”

“Mr. Cabot is dead,” Deegan said, his voice heavy. “So there's no way to make any more.”

“Damn,” Hanocck said.

“Well, Edward, I just wanted to make sure you were doing all right,” Nora said. “I was worried about you.”

“I am fully recovered. I don't need to tell you how hard it is to kill a ghoul,” he said, gesturing to Hancock. “Feel free to stop by any time. I'll be staying here. I have no wish to see any more of the world than I already have.”

“I will. Let me know, will you? About...the others?”

“Certainly.”

Nora leaned in and hugged Deegan, who looked shocked but receptive, while Hancock just smirked to himself. _Another heart collected_ , he thought. When they were back outside he glanced at her but she shook her head.

“Some other time I'll fill you in. Right now I need to focus.”

“I know, Sunshine. I know.” He laced their fingers together and they continued on their way.

***

The fighting had already started when he and Nora arrived at Bunker Hill. An Institute courser was waiting for them about a block away, tucked in the cover of a partially fallen building. In the sky he saw two vertibirds circling around, dropping Knights in power armor and jumpsuits. The blue flash of Institute pistols could be seen behind the closed gates of the trading town.

“The Brotherhood is here,” the Courser said by way of greeting. Hancock immediately noticed that Nora was stiffer and more reserved than she was around X6, and wondered anew what she had planned for this particular mission. It was too late to ask, now that they were in 'mixed' company, but he knew her well enough to roll with whatever she decided to do.

“So I see,” she replied without inflection. Nothing in her posture gave away that she'd been expecting them after their clandestine agreement. “We'll have to find another way in.”

Nora led him and the courser around the bulk of a tanker truck, since the front gate was locked tight. She climbed up on top of it and, picking her way carefully, jumped over the wall. Inside it was chaos.

Gen-2 synths were fighting with the Brotherhood soldiers, while the townsfolk cowered behind their flimsy walls and just tried to stay out of the way. The courser joined in the fray, while Nora signaled for Hancock to follow her down under the town into the lower level, where the escaped synths were most likely hiding. He saw her consult her Pip-Boy's internal map. She nodded to herself and began sneaking through the tunnels and hallways to an open space below the town itself. There was more fighting going on down there, with Railroad agents scattered in the mix. The combined sound of gatling lasers, railway rifles, gauss rifles and laser pistols made quite the cacophony in the stony grotto. There were even turrets shooting blindly into the battle.

Nora crept along the edges of the fight, never engaging with anyone. Down more hallways and past tripwires and turrets they found the four terrified synths in a small room, holding each other and awaiting their fate.

“I've been looking for you,” she said, her voice muffled by the surrounding noise outside the room.

“What...what's happening?” one of the synths cried. “Are you here to take us back?”

“No,” Nora said. “You're free to go. Go on, get out of here, but be careful.”

Hancock's supposition that she had something planned had been proven. He'd had no idea she was planning to let them go, but he wasn't all that surprised. He knew Father had staked her loyalty on this mission. But he had been watching her come to the decision that she needed to stop the Institute, and her own son, before the whole of the Commonwealth was lost. He was once again reminded of how proud he was of her, and how humbled he was to be a part of her life. He knew this was a decision that would change the fate of their small world. He hoped it wouldn't come back to haunt her.

He had no chance to tell her that, however. As soon as the synths began to leave the room the courser entered it, his face thunderous and weapon leveled at her.

“What have you done!?”

“I let them go.”

“Father will be very displeased to know I have had to kill you,” the courser said. “But it must be done.”

“I'm sorry,” Nora said sadly, and before the courser could activate his stealth field, she whipped out Pickman's blade and slashed at his throat. She cradled the dying synth as he gurgled and choked, her face dripping with tears. “Father's power is at an end, X4-18. I cannot allow the continued slavery of his creation, nor can I allow the Commonwealth to fall. I'm sorry.”

X4-18 shuddered in her arms and died, the hatred in his eyes never fading. She laid him down carefully and sheathed the blade.

“We need to get out of here, Sunshine.”

“I know.”

“You did the right thing.”

“Did I? It doesn't feel like it.”

“C'mon.” He took her arm and led her away from the room and back out to where the battle had wound down to silence. The carnage was overwhelming. Bodies lay strewn all over the floor and catwalks, Brotherhood soldiers, Gen-2's and Railroad agents alike. Nora was quiet as they picked their way through the bodies and she absently scooped up any identifying items from the agents as she passed them by, pocketing ammo and tucking the railway and gauss rifles in her pack while she was at it until it was bulging and she staggered under the weight of it.

“No sense letting Maxson have any idea who else was involved here,” she said.

“Need me to carry anything?”

“No, I can manage.” She hefted her pack, now outrageously full, onto her shoulder and led the way back to the surface slowly.

“That's too much, Nora. Had some of it over.” She sighed, but handed him some of the heavy weapons, lightening her load.

More bodies lay about on the ground as the residents of Bunker Hill came out of hiding, clearly up stalls and wreckage in silence. She found Kessler, her blond hair straggling around her face, and spoke with her for a moment. Hancock saw a lot of nodding of heads and frowning, but he didn't intrude. Nora was staying strong for the moment, doing what she did best. When she was finished, she shook hands with Kessler and came back to his side. Her Pip-Boy was beeping and she frowned some more when she saw the message on it.

“Father wants to talk. He says to meet him on the roof of the CIT building.”

“Now?”

“Yeah.”

“Wanna unload all this first?”

“I probably should. He doesn't need to know who else was involved either.”

They hiked out of Bunker Hill and headed west towards the remains of the ancient college Nora had told him once stood above the Institute. In an unremarkable building she ducked inside and met up with a thin black man, whom she introduced as High Rise.

“Welcome to Ticonderoga, Mayor.”

“Thanks, I think.”

High Rise laughed. “Don't let the outside fool you. Bullseye here knows what secrets this place has.”

“H2 made it out all right?” she asked as she pulled the heavy weapons from her backpack. Hancock handed over the ones he had too.

“Yeah. He's called Dave now.”

“Good. Here, these should get back to Dez at HQ.”

“Make sure you keep one for yourself.” High Rise could see the strain in her eyes and put a hand on her arm. “We knew it was coming, Bullseye. Everyone who volunteered knew what they were getting into.”

“I know. It's just...we don't have the agents to spend.”

“Hey, I get it. But you got them out, right?”

“The synths? Yeah.”

“And the BoS did their part and kept the baddies occupied?”

“Yeah.”

“Then it all went accordingly. Take some heart from that.”

“Thanks, High Rise.”

“No problem. Where you off to now?”

“CIT. F...the Director wants to meet me.”

“You thinkin' there's gonna be some fallout from all this?”

“Was there ever any doubt?”

“S'pose not. Hey, you know where to find me if you need somewhere to lay low.”

“I do.” Nora straightened and hugged High Rise, who nodded genially at Hanocck before they were on their way again.

Night was falling and the city was abnormally quiet. Nothing jumped out at them; even the ferals seemed uninterested in starting a fight. They passed by the now abandoned Greentech Genetics building and Nora walked confidently through the empty streets towards a large square building with a huge open courtyard.

“Mind the rads,” Hancock said, seeing the distinctive yellow barrels piled in front. “You don't want to end up like me.”

“I know,” she replied, the only thing she'd said since they left Ticonderoga. They entered the building and she immediately dropped into a crouch when they heard the sounds of fighting. “Super mutants.”

There were laser blasts from deeper within and Hancock readied his shotgun, just in case. They sneaked past the fight without drawing attention to themselves and Nora found the door that led to the roof with little trouble. Once outside, Hancock saw the old man standing there, his white hair gleaming in the moonlight. He was tall and slender, with broad shoulders and a pleasant, handsome face very reminiscent of the face he'd seen in Kellogg's memories of Nate. There was no doubt that this man was Nora's son.

“Shaun?” Nora said as she approached him.

He turned to her, his face shuttered, his eyes hard. “You know, in all my years, I've never set foot outside the Institute. Not once, not since the day they brought me here. I've never had a reason.” He turned and looked out across the skyline, taking in the ruins and the sounds of the Commonwealth. “But now...this just confirms the truth I've always known. The Commonwealth is...dead. There's no future here. The only hope for humanity lies below.”

“You ain't exactly in a position to make judgments there, pal,” Hancock muttered. He didn't think Father would hear him, but he did, and his dark eyes swung towards him, assessing him. Dismissing him. Father turned back to Nora.

“Shaun, the world has changed, yes. But I wouldn't say the future is doomed. You say you've never been out in the world, which means you don't know how people manage to make lives for themselves.”

“Perhaps. But at a cost too great to be worth it. Standing here, I'm reminded of how fortunate I was to be spared a life in this wasteland. I know that to you I was kidnapped, but in truth, the Institute rescued me. Both of us, really.”

Nora laughed, a dark ugly sound. “Kellogg called me the back up. I wasn't rescued, I was kept frozen for another sixty years. I can only assume that was because they needed me in case you didn't work out.”

“You are correct.” He paused, looking Nora over. Hancock wondered what he saw. He wondered if he could see her inherent goodness, her intelligence and charm. Her strengths. Or if all he saw was another tool in his hand. “I admit, when I had you released from the Vault, I had no expectation that you would survive out here, in all this.”

“Wait..., you released her?” Hancock asked. Father's eyes turned to him again, and Hancock saw nothing but emptiness in them. Nora had said that her son was a monster, and he understood that now. There was nothing left of the baby she'd carried, that she'd nurtured. There was only this shell, brainwashed right up to the very pinnacle of power within the Institute. It was disturbing watching him interact with her. He felt an almost overwhelming urge to kill him where he stood, make it easier on all of them. But he knew she'd never forgive him.

“I did,” Father said with a nod, as if he should be graciously awarded some sort of recognition for it. “And you did survive. And you found me, you infiltrated the Institute itself...extraordinary.”

“Why did you let me out, Shaun?” Nora asked, softly.

“Well, that's hard to explain. I suppose...I wanted to see what would happen.”

“Another experiment?”

“I guess you would see it that way.” They waited to see if he had anything further to add, and when he didn't, Nora put a hand over her heart as if it pained her. Hancock stood beside her, his hands on her arms. Father's eyes narrowed, but he had nothing to say.

“Your unconditional love is overwhelming,” Nora snapped suddenly, the sharp edge of sarcasm biting in her words. “I think I might need a minute.”

Father looked almost bewildered by her reaction, as if he had no idea what she meant. Hancock couldn't blame her for feeling that way. It was cold, cruel even, to use a parent in such a way. He could be pretty ruthless himself, but he could never have dreamed of doing such a heartless thing. There had been every chance she could have failed, that she could have died a hundred different deaths. And for what? He was beginning to get quite angry at this son of hers. The urge to just off him and be done with it was getting harder to ignore.

“Please, I hope...I hope you'll understand. Everything I've done has been for the future. A future which I hope is not now in jeopardy after recent events.” Father turned away, giving them both his back. Hancock thought it was childish, that he couldn't face his mother to chastise her. “Bunker Hill did not go well for us. Would you care to explain what happened?”

Nora squared her shoulders at his side, gently brushing his hands away to step closer to her son. “I let the synths go.”

“Why? Why would you do something so...so stupid?”

“It was the right thing to do,” she said, determination in her voice.

“And the Brotherhood of Steel?”

“I invited them, to be a distraction while I freed those synths.”

“How can I expect you to represent the Institute if this sort of thing continues?” She sighed. Hancock hadn't known that Father had intended for her to continue in his place and wondered what else he had missed, or that she had left out.

“Did it ever occur to you that I might not want to become your successor?”

“No, I can't say that it did,” Father spat. “It never occurred to me that you might prefer to wallow in filth and live among such.... _abominations_...” His lip curled with distaste as he gestured to Hancock. “Surely you know what kind of contamination you've exposed yourself to with this...creature.”

“Watch it now, Shaun. I am still your mother, don't forget our positions here.”

“I am acutely aware of our positions, Mother. I am also aware that I have a tremendous responsibility to the Institute. I cannot allow you to take over as Director with this creature at your side.”

“Do you actually believe you have anything... _anything_ at all...that would tempt me to betray everyone I have met, everyone I have saved, everything I've built? For you? You're as much a stranger to me as I am to you, Shaun. What exactly did you think you were offering me when you decided how things were going to go?”

“I can see plainly that you've made your decision. I had hoped that we could be something like a family again. I hoped you shared our vision for the future.”

“Of what? The Commonwealth under your yoke, as a kind of petri dish? Never, Shaun. You don't get to play with people lives!”

“I see.” He looked tired suddenly, as if fighting this battle was costing him more than he would admit. _He's dying_ , Hancock thought. _He wants her to take over because he's dying. Does she know?_ “I'm afraid there's no room for sentimentality, Mother. If you are not with us, you are against us.”

“Shaun...”

“Whatever you do going forward, do not interfere with the Institute's plans. I hope...I hope you can find some amount of peace.”

“Oh Shaun,” she started, then seemed to lose steam midway through her thoughts. Hancock had been sure it was on the tip of her tongue to rip her son a new asshole. His quiet demeanor, his complete disregard for her safety or emotions...it was so easy to hate this son of hers. In that moment, he could see that she did too. And he saw the moment she decided that hate wasn't worth it. “I dreamed of you as an adult for so long...and now I'm so...disappointed. I'm sorry it has to be this way.” Her voice was choked as she held back tears.

Father's face never changed, his will never wavered. “Goodbye, Mother.”

He was gone in a flash of blue static as he relayed back within his stronghold, and Nora crumpled to her knees on the roofing tiles and screamed. There was nothing Hancock could do but hold her, so he did.

***

“I need to tell Dez,” she said after a long time of sitting up there. Her tears were long dried, and her voice was hoarse from her outpouring grief. Hours had passed and the sky was lightening in the east as the sun rose. She was exhausted and heartbroken and he just wanted to take her home where he could keep an eye on her and let her recover from this blow.

“You sure you want to do that now?”

“I need to get it done. This upsets all our plans.”

“All right, love. Let's go.”

They retraced their steps off the roof and through the CIT building, now silent and empty. They passed Ticonderoga and Bunker Hill and Cabot House on their way to the Old North Church, where she brazenly walked through the door and followed the tunnels in the crypt instead of going through the back entrance. Glory met them at the bottom on the stairs, her face surprised to see them, but otherwise closed off and calm. Dez still stood in her usual position at the central table, where she stiffened upon seeing him, but said nothing. He took a seat nearby and watched as Nora strode up to her.

“Bullseye, I hear you successfully got the escapees out.”

“Yes. Dez, Father banished me.  I can't get back into the Institute.”

“Goddamnit. Well, we knew the whole operation was a long shot. I'm sure you did your best. With no one on the inside now, we can't help you anymore. To forcibly enter the Institute, you'll need an army.”

“So you're saying that now only my Minutemen can get the job done?”

“Unless you're willing to work with the Brotherhood of Steel.” Desdemona's face folded in on itself with distaste at the thought. “You've built enough settlements, you have that army. You have the data you need to find a new way in. Good luck...General Howard.”

“Thank you, Desdemona. And I'll contact you if there's anything else I need.”

“Please do. The fate of the synths is in your hands now.”

They left as quickly as they'd gone in and Nora stood for a moment looking up at the few remaining stars before she turned to him. “I don't know what to do now.”

“Right now, I think you need some time, Sunshine. Let's go home...to Goodneighbor. Get you some sleep and some food. Preston can wait. You need to rest.”

“All right, Hancock.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was a really difficult chapter to write. I wanted to express so much more anguish and anger when Father banishes his own mother, but the words just wouldn't manifest. Much of his dialogue is taken directly from the game and it seems like no matter how you respond to him, he has the same cold, calculating reaction. Ah well, he's gonna get his in the end, right?
> 
> Sorry for the long delay between chapters, the muse has been remarkably silent and sullen lately. This work is almost finished. And I'm not sure how much more of their tale I want to tell. What do you think, dear readers? What would you like to see in a sequel (assuming there will be one)?


	20. The Straw That Breaks the Camel's Back

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Hancock and Nora square off against the Brotherhood's ideals.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> “That is not your choice, soldier,” Danse growled. “You have an agreement with Elder Maxson, and this is the price he is calling due for his turning a blind eye to your synth rescuing ways. If you refuse, you will be considered an enemy of the Brotherhood.”
> 
> Nora stood at her full height which, while it wasn't much, wasn't the point. Her face had gone cold and hard, and for a moment Hancock saw the steel in her spine, steel her son had inherited from her and not her late husband. “Paladin Danse, think very carefully before you make threats against me. I am not your soldier, I am the General of the Commonwealth Minutemen, and I hold far more power here than you, or your precious Brotherhood. Do not make an enemy of me.”

“Elder Maxson has requested your presence,” Danse said as soon as Nora and Hancock arrived at the Castle.

Hancock frowned. She was fragile still after her son's rejection. Holding it together with spit and bobby pins, just like when he met her for the first time. He could see through it better now, but he didn't think anyone else did. She'd only wanted to stay in Goodneighbor for two days to rest before getting back to her duties. And even then she hadn't slept for more than a few hours at a time, hadn't slowed down to think about what happened.. He didn't like it, but he knew she worked herself to the bone as a matter of routine. He knew she did it because there was no other way for her to deal with the world as it was now. All he could do for her was be there when she collapsed, as she inevitably would.

“Let me freshen up,” she said, her voice like broken glass.

“You should get some sleep,” he said softly, for her ears alone. She sort of shrugged but didn't say no.

“Don't keep him waiting,” Danse said with a dark look. Hancock bristled.

“Listen, tin can, she's tired, dirty and...” He stopped when he saw her warning glare fighting its way through her mental exhaustion. “She needs a bit of time. She don't have to jump when your Elder says how high. Ya dig?”

“It is not wise to make the Elder impatient,” the paladin returned without missing a beat. “There are important matters to discuss.”

“And she'll get there when she gets there. She ain't under his authority. She ain't under _anyone's_ authority. Remember that.” Danse looked ready to fight about it, and Hancock admitted he wanted the brawny soldier to make the first move. To throw the first punch. He itched for it. But Nora put a hand on his chest, holding him back and threw a look over her shoulder at Danse.

“Enough, gentlemen. There are eyes watching.” Hancock placed his hand over hers and twined their fingers. A spark of a smile lit up her eyes for a moment before she turned away. “I'm going to shower, and put on clean clothes and maybe even eat something vaguely nutritious. We'll see where I am after that. Okay?”

“Understood.” Danse stomped away, the sound of his power suit overwhelming the murmur of settlers around them watching the drama unfold.

“Sunshine I...”

“Shut it, John. I don't need apologies. But I don't need a public scene either.” She withdrew her fingers from his and walked away. He watched her go into her private quarters in the Northwest Bastion before going to the outside bar and ordering some food for the two of them. He carried the brahmin steaks and tatoes carefully balanced with two bottles of beer and elbowed the button for the sliding door to shut behind him. The silence was instantaneous and welcome.

Nora had made good on her promise and was already standing in the bathtub, letting the weak spray hit her and run down her body. “I wish I had your plumbing expertise,” she said over the water when she saw him. “This shower sucks.”

“I'll take a look at it,” he promised, depositing the food on the table before shrugging off his frockcoat and shirt. Jeans and boots followed and he stepped into the tub with her, shivering just a bit as the water hit him. It was barely warm enough considering the season.

“What are you doing?”

“Taking a look at _you_ ,” he said with a salacious grin. She snorted with laughter, and he took that as a sign that he was on the right track.

He didn't know many ways to offer comfort. At least he could take some pride in the fact that what he did he did well. His fingers glided over her wet skin and she sighed, leaning into his touch. He reached around her to the rim of the tub where she kept a bowl with the soap in it and started swiping it over her, lathering his hands as he went.

“Let me take care of you, love.”

“You always do,” she murmured.

“And I haven't gotten tired of it yet.” He threaded his soapy hands into her hair and scrubbed at her scalp, eliciting a groan from her as he worked. He smiled down at her even though she couldn't see it with her back turned to him. Moments like these seemed few and far between, even though they spent all of their time together. It was rare to have quiet time with few worries – or at least be able to push the worries aside. He wanted to make it last for her as long as he could. Her hair clean, she turned in his arms and nestled under his chin, even as the water grew cold.

“Thank you, baby.”

“You're welcome, Sunshine.” He made sure she was rinsed off and shut off the tap. He grabbed the nearest towel and rubbed them both down before leading her to the table where the food waited. “Eat up, Nora. I'll find you some clean clothes.”

He grabbed his tricorn and jeans and after dressing wandered over to her dresser. She sat at the table on a stool, her skin glowing under the lights she'd built and for a moment he just stopped and looked at her. Her muscles moved under her skin and her face was turned away so he could just barely see her profile. He could see enough, though. She was so incredibly tired and all he wanted to do was wrap her in his arms and let her sleep, but he didn't know if he could convince her. He found a robe buried in the piles of clothes she hoarded from all over the place and smirked. Maybe that would make a better statement all its own?

“Here. Don't wan'cha to get cold sittin' there all nekkid.”

“I really need to get going...”

“Tomorrow. The world won't end again if you leave him hanging for one night.” She looked like she wanted to argue and he stood his ground. Finally a smile cracked on her face and she pointed at him with her fork.

“You look ridiculous, Hancock.”

He tossed his head, settling the tricorn more firmly, and grinned at her. “Is that any way to talk to your favorite ghoul?”

“Yes,” she chortled, getting up from the stool and wrapping her arms around him. She was chilly against his bare chest and he wrapped the robe around her shoulders. “You look ridiculous and I love you.”

“Oh Sunshine, you don't know how much I love you.”

“You could always show me?” she asked hopefully, tipping her head back to gaze at him. He brushed her loose hair away from her face, watching the blunt ends curl around his finger as it dried. He also watched her fight back a yawn.

“I could, but not tonight, I think. You're dead on your feet. How 'bout I keep ya warm until you've slept yourself out, and then you can deal with whatever bullshit the Brotherhood has cooked up now.”

“All right,” she whispered.

He steered her back to the table and made sure she finished her food before they crawled into bed together. He was good on his word and held her all night, letting her drape herself across him and soak up his warmth. He knew that paladin would likely have some words about the delay, but Hancock would deal with him. This moment was more important than anything Elder Maxson had to say. For both of them.

***

He'd always wanted to ride in a vertibird. He wouldn't admit it out loud, but he envied the Brotherhood their flying capability. The ride from the airport to the floating Prydwen was short, it was true, but it was exhilarating all the same. Nora, on the other hand, looked mildly green around the gills, and rather resigned to it as if she was not at all surprised. He wondered idly if she'd ridden in them before the war. Back when she was a soldier's wife and not...his.

 _Now that was a thought_ , he mused, looking down at his hand where the band of gold glinted on his finger. They had sworn to wear these rings together. To make them a visible symbol of their love and devotion to each other. Did that make them married? Was Nora his wife? Did they even need to make it official anywhere else?

Did it matter?

With a thump and a creak, the vertibird docked against the Prydwen and interrupted his thoughts. The air was brisk and breezy this high up, higher than any rooftop of any sky scraping building and as he jumped down from the 'bird he grabbed a handhold on the low fence that hemmed them in on the narrow gangplank. He followed Danse and Nora up a short flight of stairs and into the blimp itself.

It stank, was his first impression. Oil, hot metal, cramped bodies, stale food and lingering smoke. They all combined into a pervasive cloud of stink that made him miss his nose more than anything. He caught sight of Nora's face and decided it probably wouldn't have made a difference, judging by that look. He almost laughed. They followed the paladin to the forward viewing deck and found Elder Maxson, his stocky body still swathed in that greatcoat, feet planted firmly and solidly on the mildly rocking decking.

“General Howard, so glad you could finally join us,” he drawled, his impatience clear.

Nora put a gloved hand on him before he could speak and he glanced down at her to see her warning look. He backed off, knowing she was fully capable of handling herself. Especially as General, and not just Nora. More than ever he appreciated the way the ancient blue coat of the Minuteman General's outfit suited her bearing.  It was a symbol of power just as much as his red frockcoat was an emblem of his own. “Elder Maxson, Paladin Danse said you wanted to see me. I'm sorry if my duties to my people have kept you waiting.”

He waved a hand, clearly not interested in either discussing her reasons or dismissing his arrogance to think that she might have other priorities. Hancock reminded himself how young this Elder really was, and tried not to take it personally on Nora's behalf.

“Doctor Li has arrived, and I thank you for your intercession there. We have reached a critical stage in repairing Liberty Prime, and as part of our deal for assisting you at Bunker Hill, as well as allowing you to release those artificial abominations, I would like your help with it.”

“Go on.”

“Proctor Ingram has all the details, down in the airport. Speak with her.”

“So why did I need to come up here first?” Nora asked sweetly. Too sweetly to Hancock's ear. Maxson's power play hadn't impressed her much, and he hid his smile, wondering what was going to come out of her next.

“This mission is going to take you to a dangerous place, General. I would like to offer you some protection in the form of one of our power suits, to make your journey easier.”

“I already have power armor of my own, Elder. But I thank you for the offer.”

Maxson frowned. He didn't like the idea that she had her own set of power armor, but there wasn't much he could say about it. He had no authority over her, just like Hancock had told Danse, and it was evident at least that he knew it. Maybe he wasn't all bad.

“Very well,” the Elder said after a moment. “If you'd like, you are free to tour the Prydwen and meet some of the other Brotherhood members, should you feel inclined. I would like us to be able to work together to save the Commonwealth. I want you to feel welcome here.”

“Thank you, but perhaps another time, Elder. I have agreed to work with you on this project, but that doesn't mean I can drop everything else to do so.” She kept her tone light and easy, nonthreatening. Still, Hancock watched Maxson's spine stiffen just the same. “I should meet with this Proctor Ingram. Good day to you.”

“Good day, General.”

Hancock followed her from the viewing deck back into the central section of the ship, where she rounded on Danse before they went back outside. “Was that entirely necessary?”

“One would think you would be interested to see such a marvel of engineering as the Prydwen, Nora,” Danse replied, looking confused.

“One would think that perhaps as a pre-war citizen of this once intact nation, I have seen far greater marvels of engineering,” she snapped. Then she sighed. “I'm sorry, Danse, that was...rude. This is indeed a fascinating ship, and at some point I would like to see the whole thing. Just...not right now.”

“Understood, soldier...I mean...” She gave the paladin a gentle smile.

“It's okay, Danse. I take it you're acting as tour guide today? Take me to this Proctor Ingram.”

Before they could climb down the ladder to the vertibird bays, a child ran up to Danse and handed him a slip of paper. “From Scribe Haylen,” the child said.

“Thank you, Squire,” Danse replied, tucking the message into his pack.

“There are children on board?” Nora asked.

“Yes. Squires being brought up into the ranks before they are old enough to be initiates.”

“Why would Maxson bring children to what he considers a warzone?” Nora sounded aghast and horrified at the knowledge. Danse frowned again, clearly not understanding why she was upset.

“Every one of us has a duty to learn all we can of this place. And our future generations need to see how we operate if they are ever to be expected to join our ranks.”

“But...children? That squire couldn't have been more than ten years old!”

“Nora...they are safe here on the Prydwen. Any trips to the surface are carefully guided with a fully ranked paladin. They need to know what they're up against. Surely you can see that?”

Hancock watched the scene unfold around them and knew without a doubt that any assistance Nora had been contemplating giving the Brotherhood of Steel had just undergone a serious revision.

“No, Danse, I don't see how indoctrinating children is a necessary part of their education, just as exposing them to needless violence is unnecessary. What we're up against is the Institute. They do not scruple against maiming and killing anything in their path, much the way I see you and your order does not. The Brotherhood doesn't want peace for the Commonwealth, they want to own it. They want to impose their own morality and rules upon it. You aren't any different than my...than those hiding below the ground, cowering behind their technology as if the rest of the world is dirty, ruined and worthless. You care just about as much as the Institute does about regular people, just trying to make lives for themselves in peace and safety. And that amount appears to be exactly zero. I don't think I can help you anymore.”

“That is not your choice, soldier,” Danse growled. “You have an agreement with Elder Maxson, and this is the price he is calling due for his turning a blind eye to your synth rescuing ways. If you refuse, you will be considered an enemy of the Brotherhood.”

Nora stood at her full height which, while it wasn't much, wasn't the point. Her face had gone cold and hard, and for a moment Hancock saw the steel in her spine, steel her son had inherited from _her_ and not her late husband. “Paladin Danse, think very carefully before you make threats against me. I am _not_ your soldier, I am the General of the Commonwealth Minutemen, and I hold far more power here than you, or your precious Brotherhood. Do not make an enemy of _me_.”

There was a tense silence as Danse fought and failed to keep his anger from showing. Nora stood straight in her General's outfit, her bearing imperious and unyielding. Eventually Danse took a deep breath and closed off his expression. “I will take you back to the airport, General Howard. What you do from there is on your own conscience.”

“Fine.”

And it was fine. They landed without incident and Hancock and Nora started walking away from the airport without being accosted by anyone. Until a Knight in an orange jumpsuit sneered at them and muttered under his breath, “Dirty ghoulfucker.”

Nora snapped. She whipped around, drawing her 10mm with the intent of aiming it at the Knight. “I've had just about enough of this bullshit,” she snarled.

Hancock didn't want to think about what might have happened if he hadn't stopped her. But he did stop her. He took her wrist in his hand and spoke in her ear. “While I ain't opposed to you standin' up for me against these assholes, maybe we should wait until we're not surrounded by all of them in power armor and miniguns, yeah?”

“Yeah...” she sighed, dropping her gun. “Yeah, okay.”

“Let's get out of here, love.”

“Okay.”

That seemed to be the end of it, as far as Hancock was concerned. In the days that followed there was no news from the Brotherhood's actions, nor was there any retaliation from them when she went about her business in the Commonwealth, coming across roaming knights and paladins escorting scribes through the ruins. They avoided each other and any hostility.

Until about a week later.

He and Nora were at the Castle still, where she was going through settlement paperwork and he was working on retooling his shotgun, when a Minuteman knocked on her door and whispered in her ear. Hancock didn't quite hear the murmur, once again lamenting that his change had ruined the acuity of his hearing, but he saw her nod her head at him to follow her as she got up to see what the Minuteman had for her.

In the shadow of the concrete towers Nora had built at the broken entryway to the fort, Scribe Haylen stood, shivering in the late November chill.

“What is it?” Nora asked her, stepping out of the light pouring from the walls.

“It's Danse. He went ahead with the mission Elder Maxson was going to send you on, to secure the Mark 28 warheads for Liberty Prime. But now he's missing.”

“Missing...or AWOL?”

Haylen seemed to deflate. “AWOL.”

“Why tell me?”

“Because Maxson is out for blood, but...I'm hoping you can help Danse.”

“What is this all about, Haylen?”

The petite scribe looked at Nora bravely, her loyalty to the Brotherhood warring with worry for her friend and team leader. “That holotape you gave the Elder. It was redacted, right? But Proctor Quinlan was able to bypass it and found a list of known synth designations and their current whereabouts. There is DNA evidence that says Danse is a synth named M7-97. I told him about it. He secured the Sentinel Site as ordered and then he ran.”

“What do you want me to do about it?”

“Save him,” Haylen pleaded. “I know you...you work with synths. If you could get him to safety...or...I don't know...hide him. Get him out of the Commonwealth.”

“Easy now, Haylen. Take a deep breath. I can't make any promises. But I'll see what I can do.” Nora drew Haylen into a hug and the younger woman shuddered in her arms, releasing the tension she'd been holding inside. “Now, I'm assuming you have some idea of where he might have gone.”

“I do.” Haylen looked around furtively at the gathered Minutemen and others. “I don't want to say it aloud, but I'll mark it in your Pip-Boy.”

“All right.” Hancock watched as Nora pulled up the map of the Commonwealth on her wrist held computer and she and Haylen hunched over it, keeping the location unknown to any eyes watching. He wanted to smirk and scoff at the secrecy, but the revelation that tin can was a synth was too insistent in his mind to do anything other than stare. It seemed impossible, and yet stranger things had happened. He thought about the rumors about his brother, and the number of people he'd heard about being replaced. It had even happened in Goodneighbor.

He knew some of what Dr. Amari did in the basement of the Memory Den. He knew synths with mind wipes didn't know what they were, much less who they were. It wasn't outside the realm of possibility that Danse was an escapee. A much darker thought was that he was a plant from the Institute. That would explain why he ran as soon as his cover was blown.

“Please, Nora,” Haylen was saying. “Don't kill him. I know you don't care for the Brotherhood's ideals, but Danse is still a good man.”

“I know, Haylen. You have to consider that he may be actively suicidal, too. He believes in those ideals very strongly. I expect he sees himself as the worst possible being in the world right now.”

“I know,” the scribe said on a sigh. “Just...just don't let him fall for it, okay? I... _we_ need him.”

Hancock caught the slight pause as Haylen heard her own abbreviated admission. He'd wondered if there was something unrequited going on there when he'd met her the first time. He stayed quiet on his thoughts, waiting to see if Nora would say anything. She didn't, but she hugged the scribe again and sent her on her way. Her face was thoughtful when she turned back to him.

“Gonna go save the actual tin can?” he asked, only partially playfully. She nodded.

“We need to get to him before Maxson does. I know you aren't exactly fond of him, but if he's a synth...” She shook her head ruefully. “Maxson would just use him to make an example of him, and double down on his war. Too many innocents would pay for that. I have no love for the Brotherhood, but no man deserves to be executed for what he is, paladin or not.”

“I know, love. What are you thinking?”

“I'm thinking that right now, you and I need to make some plans.”

***

Listening Post Bravo was a pre-war bunker, not that Hancock was surprised. What was surprising was the number of Protectrons and turrets the renegade paladin had left operational. In the close quarters, he and Nora had a tough time getting through them, while Danse stood off in a back room, either ignoring them or completely oblivious to anything going on around him.

“Dammit, Danse,” Nora swore at him when they finally reached his bolthole. “Why didn't you tell me?”

“I knew someone would come. I should have expected Elder Maxson would send you.”

“He didn't. Haylen did.” Danse looked stumped, as if he didn't understand why the scribe would have sent her. Hancock shook his head slightly in amusement, the seriousness of the situation notwithstanding. _Poor sap is totally clueless_ , he thought.

“I didn't know,” Danse said finally, addressing her question. “You should get it over quickly. Before anyone finds out you were here.”

“Danse, you are _not_ an abomination, and I am _not_ here to murder you.”

“You should put me out of my misery,” he replied vehemently. “I represent the sum of all that's wrong with the world today. Technology run amok. I'm nothing more than a programmed machine. Everything I know and believe about myself is a lie.”

“No. You have worth as a person. You have knowledge and expertise and you have loyalty to your ideals. You have the conviction of your beliefs. I will not be the instrument by which you end all that.”

“But I'm not a person!” he cried out. Hancock was on his guard in case the paladin decided to do something foolish like attack her, but Nora stepped up to him and cupped his face in her hands. She looked so tiny next to him, even outside of his power armor. But she exuded the same level of calmly held power she always had. Canny, cunning and charismatic. She put him to shame.

“Danse,” she whispered. “You _are_ a person. Like me, like Hancock, like Nick and X6-88. Like Haylen and Rhys and yes, even Elder Maxson. Just because you are a synth doesn't change that you are a person.” Danse seemed to shrink in her hands, slumping his shoulders and scrunching up his face like he was going to cry. Hancock saw her thumbs swipe across the man's cheeks and decided he was more accurate than he'd supposed. Nora placed a kiss on Danse's brow and stepped away from him. “Now, you can't stay here. Sooner or later someone will know to look for you here.”

“No. Only Haylen and Rhys knew about this location. It was to be our last fallback in case we didn't get...rescued.”

“I know you trust Haylen, but what about Rhys?”

“I trust him.”

“All right. I'd feel better if you were in one of my settlements, but...”

“General...Nora...I can't be a burden to you.”

“You're not a burden, Danse. What you are is thrown for a loop, probably very confused and very vulnerable. You need safety and security right now.”

“I'll be fine. You should go, if you're going to. I wouldn't want any harm to come to you because of me. Tell the Elder I'm dead. It should make things easier for you.” She nodded with a sense of finality and he handed her his holotags, etched with his name and rank.

As they rode up the elevator, they both heard the distinctive throb of a vertibird. “Well, here goes nothing,” she muttered.

“More Brotherhood?” Hancock asked.

“Oh, I have a feeling it's more than _just_ Brotherhood.”

“You think Elder Maxson came out here on his own?”

“We're about to find out, aren't we?” They stepped into the gray cold day and saw she was right. Maxson stood there, legs braced apart, his breath pluming around his head. The image would have been striking if not for the knowledge that the boy Elder was far too young to carry the weight of responsibility that he did.

“You let him live, didn't you?” Maxson accused as soon as they were within earshot.

“His tags.” Nora sounded very self assured and confident as she displayed the holotags in her hand.

“Hmm. I find it hard to believe you would kill him outright, especially after your last...departure from the Prydwen. And your overall opinion on the matter of synths.”

“Tell me, Maxson, after all the years of service he's given the Brotherhood, after all his loyalty, why are you so willing to have a man die just because of what he is?”

“He's an abomination! He represents everything we're fighting against. Man is man, machine is machine.” He made a cutting gesture with his hand. “They should never be intertwined.”

“And you believe that so strongly that a man who has been a part of this Brotherhood for longer than you have been Elder deserves to die regardless of his record, his deeds? He's saved countless lives in his career, and you wouldn't even be here right now if not for his foreknowledge. What harm has he ever done to you? He was your friend, Arthur!”

Maxson looked at her, his eyes inscrutable and hooded by his frown. Hancock wanted to believe that her words had gotten through to him, but it was hard to tell until he spoke. “I see we are at an impasse, General Howard.”

“I'm glad you remember who I am.”

Maxson sighed.  Hancock knew it was likely to be the only concession they would get from him. “Fine. To me, and to all the Brotherhood, he will be dead. He was pursued, and killed, by you, as a show of good faith.” Maxson's face twisted; he didn't like having to pass off the lie any more than Hancock could tell Nora liked telling one. “Should he show his face at the airport, or be spotted by any of my patrols, he will be shot on sight as an impostor. That's the best I can do for him.”

“Thank you.”

“Don't mistake my mercy for acceptance,” he said, raising his voice and looking past them into the bunker. Hancock turned his head and saw the former paladin standing in the shadows of the doorway. The two men shared a stony silence before Maxson turned on his heel and stalked away. Moments later they heard the vertibird fire up and lift into the sky, deafening them until it passed out of sight.

Nora sighed. “That could have been worse.”

“It could have, Sunshine,” he agreed with her. “Can we get out of here now?”

“Yeah.” She turned to face Danse one last time. “I'll be back to see how you're doing. But you should make plans to leave the Commonwealth.”

“Where would I go?”

“The one place that's safe for your kind. Acadia.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Blind Betrayal, as a quest, is weird to me. The twist that Paladin Danse is a synth isn't what bothers me so much as the frankly uninspiring choices you, the player, can make bothers me. You can either kill him, or not. And that's fine. But then you can either have Maxson kill him or convince him to leave. And that dialogue falls flat for me. 
> 
> If nothing else, this part highlights Nora's ability to resolve a situation with words – as a lawyer tends to do – and shows her tolerance to boot. I wish in game it was an option to send Danse to Acadia, if one had already played the dlc. I mean, you can tell the other factions about Far Harbor, it wouldn't have been that hard to include some dialogue options to send your known synth companions there if you wanted.
> 
> As always, feedback is the lifeblood, so keep those comments coming.


	21. To Hell and Back

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which the end comes for the Institute

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> “I'm sorry,” Nora whispered, tears in her eyes. He turned his face away, but she bent over him just the same and kissed his brow. “Your mother loves you, Shaun. I'm so sorry things had to end like this...”
> 
> Shaun shuddered under her touch, but Hancock didn't think it was from revulsion. Any anger and resentment he felt towards 'Father' died then. He was still just a boy inside an old man's sick and dying body. A boy who had always wanted his mother. Hancock turned away to give them privacy in their final moments. 
> 
> “Goodbye, my son,” Nora said, so softly Hancock almost didn't hear it. She straightened and went to the terminal on the desk...

“There,” Nora said with satisfaction, hooking up a long wire to the laser turret she'd just hauled up to the top of the Castle walls from the armory. The thrum of generators was steady all around them, and on each side of the huge fort, turrets and artillery cannon faced out into the Commonwealth like so many metal soldiers.

“You really expectin' the Institute to attack here?” Hancock asked.

“I expect _somebody_ will,” she replied, wiping off her hands and frowning at the drizzle misting around them. It was almost cold enough to freeze and plumes of her breath hid her face with every exhale. They'd been working hard getting the Castle ready for any bombardment and now it was finished. There were plenty of beds, food and water for the residents of the Minutemen's stronghold, and now there was plenty of protection should either the Institute or the Brotherhood of Steel decide to make a move.

Hancock looked across the expanse of the bay towards the Prydwen, nearly hidden by the misting rain. Since Danse's begrudging escape from death there had been no word from them, good or bad. They could only assume the Brotherhood was still making plans to assault the Institute themselves, although Nora was determined to get there first. She knew how many innocent lives were down there, lives Maxson wouldn't think twice about taking to justify his ends.

“Hey,” she said into his ear. He hadn't even noticed her come up behind him until he felt her breath on his neck. “Let's get inside and out of these wet clothes, hmm?”

“You got it.”

The door slid closed behind them as they entered her quarters, shutting out the sound of the Castle prepping for whatever might come. He knew she'd gotten word from Sturges about the best way to get back into the Institute, and Preston was on his way to them now with more details. And a bomb. As soon as Garvey got there, it would be time to take the fight to the Institute instead of waiting for them to come out of the shadows.

“John, get in here!” Nora called from the doorway to her room. He grinned slightly at the impatient tone in her voice and obeyed, stripping off the frockcoat so he could hang it on a peg near the cook station's radiant warmth. It was shaping up to be a cold December so far and he idly wondered if Fahrenheit had started up the furnace in the State House yet. Just because he didn't feel the cold like smoothskins didn't mean he made his people suffer for it. Nora was already down to her tank top with her jeans unbuttoned when he strode into the room and as soon as he was within reach her hands went to his flag.

“I ain't that cold, Sunshine.”

“I am,” she retorted. She pulled the flag away and tossed it on a chair, her usually nimble fingers made clumsy from the cold as she worked on the buttons of his shirt. He yelped when her hands flattened out on his bare chest.

“Christ, woman! Why didn't you have your gloves on?”

“They get in the way of the wiring.” She hummed in the back of her throat as she warmed her fingers on his skin and he shook his head at her but obligingly wrapped his arms around her, rubbing her back to generate some heat. Goosebumps rose on her immediately. She tipped her head back to meet his eyes, her bright magenta hair straggly around her face, drying into wild curls. “C'mon baby, warm me up.”

“Oh, I'll warm you.” He leaned down and kissed her, softly at first, but then she slanted her head, opening her mouth under his and he was powerless to resist the urge to sweep his tongue across hers. From there it was the work of a moment to tug the damp tank top off her and toss it somewhere, his mouth moving down her neck and across her collarbones. His hands slid over her chilled body until he cupped her breasts in them, making her groan.

“Been too long,” she whispered. She was right, it had been. He hadn't made love to her since before the attack on Bunker Hill, nearly two weeks ago. Between caring for her wounded mental state and the way she worked herself to exhaustion, he hadn't even really thought about it. Now he was determined to make up for it. At the very least, he would let her vent on him however she needed to.

He guided her towards the bed and maneuvered her until she was standing between his legs as he sat on the edge of it, his hands toying with the zipper of her jeans. The position put her breasts at his eye level and he grinned at her lasciviously. She answered with a grin of her own and tossed his tricorn across the room where it landed haphazardly on a table. Then she gasped as he buried his face between her breasts, his tongue hot on her skin.

“John...”

“I'm gettin' there,” he murmured, pushing her jeans over her hips. They didn't want to give since they were wet and the ensuing struggle seemed to add to her level of frustration as she whined and stamped her foot, making him laugh. “Ah, Sunshine, you're so greedy.”

“For you? Always.” She'd wrapped her hands around the back of his head, holding him to her chest, so he licked a path from one taut nipple to the other, his hands still burrowing under the wet denim to get at her skin. He finally got the jeans over the curve of her bottom and she shifted her legs so she could step out of them and kick them away, taking her underwear with them.

“C'mere, you,” he whispered, tugging her with him as he fell backwards across the bed, her legs sliding along his so she was straddling him. “Now there's a view.”

She leaned back and popped the button on his jeans, dragging the zipper down and slipping her hand inside. He hissed in pleasure as she wrapped her fingers around him, drawing him out and stroking him. He was already hard, he had been since she'd attacked his flag sash, but she still made a triumphant face, proud of how much she made him want her. As if there was any question.

With no further preamble she lowered herself onto him, taking him as deep as she could, a breathy moan the only sound she made. She was tight from the lack of any real foreplay, but it didn't seem to hinder her as she rode him slow and easy. Certainly she was wet enough and her heat slid up and down on him without much trouble.

“Why does it always feel so good?” she asked, arching her back to get at the angle she wanted most. His fingers brushed down her stomach to her clit, teasing it and making her clench on him. He had no answer for her, but she didn't seem to care anyway.

She kicked up the tempo from the slow slide to a harder rhythm, her hands tangled in her hair as he urged her on, the fingers of one hand slick on her clit, the other around her hip, holding her in place. Her breaths came shorter now, panting as she got closer to coming. He loved watching her unravel for him like this, loved how her face was suffused with bliss, her cheeks flushed from exertion, her eyes squeezed shut so she wasn't distracted by anything other than him. With a cry she folded over him as her orgasm hit her, her muscles spasming on him like a rippling fist. He heard himself groan at the feel of her.

Without waiting for her to come down from the high of it, he rolled her over, deftly enough that he didn't even slip out of her, and hitched his hands under her legs, spreading her wide. He pounded into her then, the way she liked after coming, his skin slapping against hers. She braced her hands on the headboard of the bed to keep from sliding and lifted her hips into each thrust, driving him wilder with each passing second. His own orgasm raced through him like an electric shock, sudden and stunning and he emptied into her with a hoarse shout, collapsing on her. She wrapped her arms around him, her legs still hooked over his hips and she began to laugh.

“What?” he managed to ask, hazy and stupid feeling after such a powerful climax.

“You still have your jeans on,” she said with a giggle.

“See? Proof of your greediness,” he murmured against the inner slope of her breast. “Couldn't even wait til I was naked.”

“You pulled me on top of you, remember?”

“Huh, yeah...well...” He rolled off her after pulling out carefully and finally shed his jeans and boots, tossing them over the side of the bed. Nora shuffled her way under the covers and waited for him to join her, settling her hand over his heartbeat the way she always did.

“Do you still love me?” she asked, sounding sleepy but sated.

“Of course I do. You still love me?'

“Always, baby. Always.” He held her as she drifted off in his arms, wondering again how he got so damned lucky.

***

In the wee hours of the night – there were no windows in Nora's quarters but her Pip-Boy was glowing faintly with the chronometer showing – the general alarm rang out on Radio Freedom. Hancock shook Nora awake and she rolled out of the bed and stumbled through the dark to find her armor. He dressed too, stamping his feet into his boots and throwing on his now dry frockcoat with a flourish. He grabbed his shotgun and followed Nora down the corridor where she was already opening the huge sliding door. Ronnie Shaw met them on the other side, her face grim...well grimmer than usual.

“They thought they could catch us out,” she barked. “But we're ready for'em, General.”

“Who is it, the Brotherhood or the Institute?”

“Institute. I've been seeing those damned synths sneaking around outside the perimeter for days, but now it looks like they're planning a full scale assault. Relays began cropping up on both sides.”

“All right, Ronnie, you know what to do.”

“Yes ma'am. Let's see if these whippersnappers here have retained anything that I taught'em.” She turned away with a smart nod, cranking up her laser musket. “Let's give'em hell!” she cried into the darkness.

Hancock followed Ronnie and Nora into the central square of the Castle, seeing Nora veer away from the corner of his eye to speak with X6-88. He lingered behind her, keeping an eye on the walls as she spoke to the former Institute watchdog.

“X, I need to know whose side you're on right now.”

“I am loyal to you, ma'am.”

“So you aren't planning to defect and attack my Minutemen when they start shooting your fellow Coursers? Because you know they're coming.”

For a moment X6 was silent and Hancock glanced over to see the stoic synth standing very still, his face unreadable and his eyes hidden behind his sunglasses. At last he shook his head. “No ma'am. You have ordered me to treat these settlers as I would anyone in my charge. I will not attack them.”

“I'm sorry you're in a difficult position here, X. If it makes you feel better, I could have you defend the civilian quarters inside the walls?”

“What makes me feel better is irrelevant, ma'am. I will do as ordered, as always.” Even as he spoke, Hancock saw something like relief cross the synth's face, saw his shoulders drop from defensive to relaxed at the idea that Nora wasn't going to force him to fight his own brethren.

“Well, it will make _me_ feel better if you're not stuck between your orders and your peers. Go inside the walls, X, keep any intruders that make it that far out. Understood?”

“Yes ma'am.” The black clad man took off at a run, dodging gracefully around the Minutemen rushing out from the barracks until he was out of sight.

“Still tryin' to keep the murder bot safe?” Hancock teased.

“He's not a bot, love. Besides, in the heat of battle, I don't want him to get accidentally shot by friendly fire.”

“Good point. All right, Sunshine, where we settin' up shop?” She looked around quickly at the sturdy walls bristling with turrets and heavily armed Minutemen.

“Let's head to the southern entrance. Ronnie's got the western wall covered, but she said they were coming from both sides. That's a pretty narrow strip of real estate. They can't rush us as easily there.”

“After you.”

They took off running, climbing the stairs she'd built on that side until they topped the wall, protected by a meager guard post and a lone machine gun turret. Then they waited for the relays to begin. It wasn't long before the battle was engaged in earnest. Wave after wave of brilliant blue flashes lit up the night as Gen-2 soldiers attacked the walls, interspersed with Coursers using stealth boys. Hancock kept up a constant fire, Nora at his side, her usual precision shooting standing her in good stead as synth after synth dropped into a heap of sparks and broken limbs.

And they kept coming. White shielding and blue laser fire blended chaotically with the yellow jackets of the Minutemen and their red laser muskets. At some point Nora dropped off the wall onto a knot of attackers, her defiant shout barely heard over the din of fighting. Hancock knew she could handle herself, and didn't try to cover her for fear of hitting her himself. He followed her off the top of the wall and switched from his shotgun to his combat knife – recently upgraded by his love to be serrated – and went after the nearly invisible Coursers trying to sneak up on her.

 _Living men bleed_ , he thought to himself. _Bleeding men make stealth boys useless_.

He lost track of time during the fight, only focused on the next attacker, the next faceless, nameless target. But eventually the battle slowed and the flashing arcs of relays stopped. The Institute had sacrificed enough resources needlessly for one day. All around them were mangled and twisted remains of Gen-2's and crumpled bodies of Coursers. And the bodies of men and women who had sworn their lives to the greater good. Ronnie was comforting survivors who'd just seen their fellows fall while Nora picked her way through the masses of the deceased, scavving up weapons and ammo, checking over bodies to see how many might still be alive. He found her later, up on the walls as dawn began to break, looking west into the city ruins, her face streaked with oil and blood and tears.

“You all right, Sunshine?”

“I'm getting there...” She turned to face him, her eyes stark in the shadows of her face. He hadn't seen her look like that since the day they'd met. He hoped he'd never have to see it again. “It's time to end this, my love. It's time to take this fight to the source.”

“You know I'm right there with you, Nora. To hell and back, right?”

“Right.” She leaned into him then, wrapped an arm around him to hold him tight. He rested his chin on her head and looked towards the city himself. A lone dark figure was creeping from shadow to shadow, a familiar hat marking him as friend and not enemy.

“Look, Preston missed all the fun, but he's here in time for cleanup.” Nora muffled a snorting laugh into his chest, but it was a better sound than bitterness to his mind. They had lived to fight another day. And one way or the other, it would soon be over.

***

As it turned out, breaking into the Institute was so ridiculously easy Hancock nearly laughed aloud. How had no one ever done this before? Once they reached the relay terminal, Nora inserted the holotape with Sturges's override program on it and within moments she'd teleported the mechanic, as well as Preston and a squadron of Minutemen, into the room. Garvey handed over the fusion pulse charge and they exchanged words in low voices that he couldn't overhear. He didn't need to though, from the set of Nora's face. This was it, this was the final goal.

“All right, gang,” Nora said, facing the others. “I expect to face major forces of synths, Coursers and possibly even scientists. Certainly we'll run across hostiles from the SRB. Our objective is BioScience, and from there to Advanced Systems. All the wings are like spokes on a wheel, but there are back entrances to most of them that are all connected. Try not to get civilians caught in the crossfire and good luck!”

She led the way into the Institute, and everything she'd expected was waiting for them. The fighting was fierce and she and Hancock grew steadily distanced from the others as she made her was determinedly to the BioScience division. Once BioScience was cleared, Nora worked her way towards Advanced Systems, but they heard Sturges on the PA. Security had locked down; their presence had been noted by Father.

Nora's face was grim as she fought her way through the synths to the central elevator. She was already bleeding down her arm and looked more haggard than he'd ever seen her, but she wasn't going to give in. He pulled a stimpak from his pocket and handed it over to her in silence as the elevator rose, carrying them away from the carnage below. With a hiss and a groan she injected it into her shoulder, then rolled the ball joint around to test how well it had worked. The elevator came to a stop smoothly and the door slid open. The quiet was pervasive and calming and Nora walked towards Father's apartment with less anger in her step, more resolution.

They found him tucked securely into a medical bay, the back half raised so he was supported. His face was pinched and gray with pain and a small sound escaped Nora's lips before she could stop it. It was enough to draw Father's attention and his eyes lit up briefly before settling into something like mournful.

“I didn't expect to see you again. Come to see the reactor? We got it working without you.”

“I'm not here to see it, Shaun,” Nora whispered. A light dawned in his eyes and they got hard and angry. “I'm sorry it has to be this way.”

“You're sorry? You can't be that sorry if you're here going through with it.” He paused to frown, as if the energy it took to move was more than he could bear. “It's not enough that I lay here dying, but now you will destroy everything I've built too? Tell me, under what righteous pretense have you justified this atrocity?”

“Shaun...after everything this world has gone through, after everything I have seen and learned and done...” She shook her head in sadness. “It's for the greater good. The Commonwealth deserves to determine its own fate.”

“Spare me, you've been up there. You know as well as I do that it's doomed.”

“No, Shaun. It isn't.”

“None of it matters now, does it? You'll accomplish your task and _ruin_ humanity's best hope for the future.” He took a deep breath, and Hancock could hear the rattle in it like a death knell. He didn't have long for the world. Glancing at Nora, he saw that she had heard it too. “The only question left, is why are you here? Is it regret, or did you come to gloat?”

“Shaun, please, if you help me, fewer people will die.”

“Why would I agree to help you?”

“I promise you, I will look after those that make it out. I will teach them that the world isn't dying, that there is another way. Please, Shaun.”

He closed his eyes, in defeat and despair. “Very well. In my terminal...there is a code that will shut down some of the synths, enter 9003. Now...go. Just...leave me be.”

“I'm sorry,” Nora whispered, tears in her eyes. He turned his face away, but she bent over him just the same and kissed his brow. “Your mother loves you, Shaun. I'm so sorry things had to end like this...”

Shaun shuddered under her touch, but Hancock didn't think it was from revulsion. Any anger and resentment he felt towards 'Father' died then. He was still just a boy inside an old man's sick and dying body. A boy who had always wanted his mother. Hancock turned away to give them privacy in their final moments.

“Goodbye, my son,” Nora said, so softly Hancock almost didn't hear it. She straightened and went to the terminal on the desk, entering the code her son had given her, shutting down the Gen-1's and 2's that were within the range of the command. He peered over her shoulder and watched as she keyed up the other options before her – reversing the security lockdown and an evacuation notice. With firm determination, she chose them both, then stood up from the terminal.

“Ready?” Hancock asked.

“Yes.”

***

“You're takin' a lot of rads,” Hancock said as Nora opened the housing of the reactor. He knew it was pointless to offer to do it himself; this was her son's world she was bringing down. It would be by her hand or not at all.

“I took a Rad-X,” she growled, her voice hoarse from the stun baton she'd taken in the throat from a particularly hard to kill synth trooper. Now all the nearby synths were dead and she and Hancock were alone in the vast chamber crisscrossed with walkways and scaffolding. Nora took the fusion pulse charge from under her armor – where it had been safest to carry it – and took a deep, steadying breath. Hancock watched as she slid open a panel on the housing, her hands lost in a swirl of blue arcs, and attached the charge to the reactor itself. She closed it all up and resolutely stepped away. She lifted her Pip-Boy and dialed through the menus to the one she wanted.

“All right, Preston, we're done here.” She caught his eye and nodded. Moments later Hancock felt himself being taken apart cell by cell as the relay teleported them out of the reactor room and back into the control center of the Institute.

“Holy shit!” he exclaimed before he could think twice about it. Nora broke into a smile, her first in hours, only in that moment remembering it was his first time using the relay.

“Sorry for the lack of warning,” she said.

“That was one wild ride.”

“Are we ready, Sturges?” she asked, stepping away from the relay platform and heading towards the others already gathered there.

“Well...” the mechanic started and gestured to his right, where a small figure was standing by himself. “We were, then this kid showed up.”

Nora approached the boy, whose red hair and small sharp features struck Hancock as very familiar, and knelt down in front of him. “Shaun?”

“Mom? Is it time to go? Father said I should give this to you, I don't know what it says,” and the boy handed her a holotape. “He said it was time to be with you now. Is it?”

The others shared glances between each other, not knowing what to say. Hancock remembered back to the day she'd returned from the Institute and told him about the boy synth who looked like her son, who didn't know her and kept calling for Father. Was that this boy? Had he been reprogrammed?

“Yes, son, it's time to go. I have to do something first, but...” She stopped, her voice giving out from strain, from fatigue...and probably from grief. Hancock stepped up behind her and put his hands on her shoulders. The boy looked up at him, his smooth features taking in his mangled ones without any sign of revulsion or fear.

 _At least he hasn't yet been taught to be a bigot_ , he thought.

“Who are you?” the synth Shaun asked.

Nora took one of his hands in hers and gripped it so tight it was painful. She hadn't been prepared for this. But he had; he'd been ready to say the words since discovering that the son she was looking for was no longer a baby. “I'm Hancock, I'm married to your mother.”

The boy's face screwed up in thought, so fleetingly fast it was gone almost before he registered it. “Does that make you my new father?”

Nora let out a sound, somewhere between a cry and a laugh. Hancock just smiled. “If you want me to be.”

“Time enough for all that later,” Sturges interrupted. “We gotta move. I'll take the boy with me to the Castle, all right? You got a job to do.”

Nora stood up, wiping her eyes. “All right, Sturges. Let's get this done.”

“Sure thing, boss.”

Now that he was prepared for it, the second relay wasn't as awe-inspiring, although the view from the rooftop of the Mass Fusion Building was. There, on top of a barrel, looking perfectly innocent, was the remote detonator for the pulse charge. Only Nora, himself and Preston were there; the others must have gone with Sturges back to the Castle. Nora stood over the remote for a long time, head bowed, eyes closed, her lips moving without sound.

 _She's praying_ , Hancock realized.

When she was done, she lifted her gaze out over the ruins of Boston, tears streaming down her cheeks. She lifted the lid of the detonator but didn't push it, just stood there with her hand poised over it.

“It's now or never, General Howard,” Preston said softly, his tone gentle and sympathetic. It was enough of a spur and Nora's hand descended, pushing the button that would set off the charge. That would blow up the Institute.

A blinding blue flash erupted into the sky, followed swiftly by flames and a shockwave that rushed through the ruins. They were all blown back by the force of it when it hit them. The sound of the explosion was deafening. Nora stumbled, her vast store of inner strength depleted. Hancock caught her before she fell and held her in his arms as he had so many other times.

“It's over,” she whispered. “It's really over.”

“It sure is, Sunshine.”

She looked up at him over her shoulder, grime and blood and tears all unable to erase her timeless beauty, her pre-war perfection. “I could never have done this without you, you know.”

“I know.”

“Both of you,” she said, including Preston in her sights. The Minuteman just nodded and exchanged a quick look with Hancock. They both knew what she'd done in the last year, what she'd built and what she'd sacrificed.

“C'mon, love, let's get you home. To your son.”

“Yes. _Our_ son, apparently.”

“Our son,” he affirmed with a smile acknowledging her sardonic expression and helped her to her feet. _What an adventure this will be_ , he thought. _I wouldn't have it any other way_.

***

Returning to Sanctuary Hills, Shaun in tow, was every bit as much of an adventure as Hancock thought it would be. The boy was fascinated by everything, afraid of nothing. He worried about getting dirty and thought far, far too much and too fast for a child. He was by turns serious and ridiculous, eventually relaxing enough in their presence to show a bit of wry humor, dry wit and an ability to pun that was unmatched even by Nora. The three days they took as a family to travel across the Commonwealth from the Castle back to Concord didn't feel real, almost. Like a dream he wasn't sure he would ever wake from. He wasn't sure he'd want to.

Hancock wasn't a man who spent much time pondering, preferring to live moment to moment. But if there was one thing he'd learned from his association with Nora, it was that some of those moments mattered more than others. He had known things would change if and when Nora found her son. He hoped he was up for all the changes yet to come, for surely there would be many. And these were the moments that mattered.

He had added many things to the list he kept in his head on Nora, things that he'd learned about her throughout their relationship. Watching her with the synth copy of her child, he added one he never truly thought he would.

 _Is a good mother...the best_.

***

Nora stood in the second bedroom – Shaun's bedroom – and ran light fingers over the ancient, broken crib with its hanging mobile. “Every time I close my eyes,” she said to him as he leaned in the doorway, “I see my life before all of this. Before the bombs. It all changed in an instant, and the future I'd planned shifted. Ended. This isn't the world I wanted, but it's the one I've got. Ripped apart and put back together again.”

She paused, looked up and out the window at something Hancock couldn't see, would never see.

The past. Her life before the war, before radiation and destruction and monsters of all shapes and sizes. A past that had no Institute, no dead husband. A past where his kind didn't exist, where food was more plentiful and clean. Where hot water and working lights weren't luxuries few could afford. A past where the horrors of the Vaults were not yet known.

A past where junkyard dogs were just a nuisance and not a formidable foe to any who crossed them.

“War never changes,” she whispered, so low he nearly didn't hear it. “You were right about that, Nate.”

“Are you all right, Sunshine?” She took a deep breath, her hands lingering on the crib a moment longer before she pulled them away, releasing the past from both her physical grip and the metaphorical one.

“Yeah...yeah, I'm all right. We need to take this apart, ya know. Shaun needs a real bed.”

“Let's get on it, then.” She turned away from the crib and smiled at him, leaned in to kiss him.

“I love you, John Hancock, my ghoul husband. I hope you're okay with that for the rest of my life.”

“Yeah, Vaultsicle, I'm okay with that.” He tucked her under his arm, intent on keeping her there and kissing her more when the front door banged open and shut again. There was the clatter of small footsteps coming down the hall. Shaun.

“Mom! Dad! You gotta come see what I built!”

 

~Fin~

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much, all you dear readers, for making my very first piece of fanfiction so successful, and for staying with me to the end of it. The story isn't completely over for Nora and her ghoul husband and her synth son. There are a number of tidbits yet to be included in One Shot Wonders. I hope you have all enjoyed reading this as much as I enjoyed writing it.
> 
> Drop me a line on tumblr sometime (crackinglamb.tumblr.com), or check my other works (there's lots now). I may at some point revisit the playthrough of General Nora Howard, since there's lots to cover still. But for now, Junkyard Dogs is complete. Thanks again, and as always, comments are the lifeblood.

**Author's Note:**

> The characterization of this SS comes from a playthrough I am currently doing, so updates may be a bit sporadic after a while as I catch up the writing to the game (or vice versa in some cases). *Edit, I totally lied, this is being updated regularly*
> 
> It’s based upon two defining themes: what does the companion do when they’re not with the SS, and how can Hancock get this pre-war SAHM to eat better, as well as keeping her from trying to save the world in just one day? This is told exclusively from Hancock’s POV.


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